I read over the draft of my email for the fifteenth time.
Am I really about to send in my acceptance for a brand new job offer? Despite the fact that I’m only JUST starting to feel settled at my current job?
More importantly, should I sign the email “Best” or “All the best”????
Anxiety jumps around inside my stomach like that annoying little kid at the birthday party who won’t get out of the bouncy castle, even when it’s time for cake.
I’m definitely not a fan of change. That’s why I eat the same thing for breakfast every day. It’s called consistency, and it’s sexier than Ryan Reynold’s left glute.
But progress is impossible without change, right? I think George Bernard Shaw said that. Or maybe a Snapple cap.
I take a deep breath and press “send” on the email, relinquishing the future of my career to cyberspace.
I feel an immediate sense of relief. Like bathing in a sweet, sweet river of Tylenol PM. I’m doing the right thing. This is exactly what I want for my career.
I shoot off a quick Snapchat to some friends: “Accepted the job!!!!! [dancing girl emoji] [fire emoji] [grinning emoji]”
Look out, world. I’m leaning the fuq in.
I give my two weeks notice the next day. Contrary to what I expect, no one cries or gets mad at me. Why? Because it’s a professional workplace, not the set of a David O. Russell film.
My armpits are uncomfortably moist. Yes, moist. I go to Duane Reade to buy deodorant. And pretzel M&Ms.
They say time flies when you’re having fun, but time also flies when you only have 14 days to wrap up loose ends, transition your entire workload, purge your laptop of personal files, conduct an exit interview, answer emails and explain why you’re leaving to every coworker you end up washing your hands next to in the bathroom.
Finally, my first day at the new job. I arrive half an hour early to grab a bite to eat at a nearby Pret a Manger, because it’s still way too soon for my new colleagues to find out what it sounds like when I chew. That can wait until lunch. Unless I get fired before then!
I arrive at the office a few minutes before the designated time. (That’s how you convey “World’s Best Employee” vibes without writing it on a mug).
The next 8 hours are a blur of information. I feel more incompetent than I did that one time I tried to contour my cheekbones. It’s exciting but also terrifying and my heart is acting like someone injected it with espresso.
By the end of the day, all I want to do is take off my clothes and call my mom and take a shower and eat a cookie and fall asleep to the lullaby of Rory Gilmore’s voice. Ya know? But as I close my laptop and start packing up my bag, it occurs to me with the ding! of a mental Hallmark card that I should probably take a moment to appreciate the fact that I did it.
And that’s when a little bit of air escapes from the bouncy castle.