Sack of Swinglines...or...How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Job 

Ah yes. The day before my last day of work. If you could see me now, my demeanor could only be described as the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz...on crack. I spend half my day acting like I don't have a brain...half the day running around screaming "Outta my way, mother f**ker! I'm tryin to get shit done!" (although I can't seem to remember that particular line in Baum's original edition) ...and the other half of the day trying to remember things I used to know...like fractions.

Yet... there's a slight sense of relief that one garners from leaving a job.

In fact, I felt so good about quitting this job that I walked into several dozen fast food places, got jobs...and quit those too. ...All while screaming, "Outta my way, mother f**ker! I'm tryin to get shit done!"

It's true. I swear.

So let's see...I should probably write something thoughtful and reflective about my first "real job."

Well ok, but I won't waste any words about it...

My job has raised the bar for all future employment, and I like my job as much as I liked it on the first day. Excellent people, interesting work, a fun environment, and a vending machine with Whoppers. The people I grow closest to in life are those who give their heart and soul in everything they do while having a real sense of fun about it at the same time. Oddly enough, that could describe plenty of people at my office.

They give me additional hope for the future.

Tomorrow is my last day. When I'm not burning all of my remaining bridges, I'll be stealing everyone's staplers as I make a run for the door.

"Outta my way, mother f**kers! I'm stealin' staplers!"

Loose papers will be askew everywhere! Mass chaos will ensue!



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