Newfound Happiness

The anticipation of getting the boot is as big a bitch as my boss. Over the past two weeks I've seen what I had been working on being gradually shifted onto the hands of several colleagues. Despite the fact that those were never meant to be my duties anyway, it's a clear sign that the devil is scheming to pull a Donald Trump and that my head is on the chopping board. Guess I had it coming for being the only one with the balls to talk back at her when she’s wrong.

"Scheming" is the word because based on what I've heard from the few people left who've been with the company long enough, the devil has a reputation for going out of her way to stint any entitled compensation and make the last days miserable for staff who are about to leave, those she wants gone as well as those who decide to leave for better offers. People in the industry ― people who know or know of the devil ― would find it impressive of me for having stuck to this job for a whole year.

I took a detour from my "career in editorial" last year for a taste of the business world. The bitter and sour were expected. More importantly though, it's been an interesting experience witnessing how people ― including those considered friends ― can turn on you with the flip of a switch. I’m tired of being forced to be the I in the team, and really sick of being miserable five days a week plus overtime. I honestly can’t wait for it to be all over. Nonetheless, the resignation letter I'd had ready in my drawer since a few weeks ago is now in the shredder. I'm going to leave anyway, might as well get compensated without the month’s notice.

Knowing that I won’t be at this job for much longer is actually a big relief. I must say, I’m enjoying my Christmas holiday so much more now then I would’ve if I had to worry about going back to being the devil’s biatch.