Just When I Thought It Was Over, They Pull Me Back In

I decided to quit my job. At first, as of today it was going to be today. I worked last night and in addition to the regular show we had booked a rap/hiphop event as well. I knew we had a second show, but I didn't know we were sold out and I didn't know it wasn't even starting till 11:30 with no set end time. We went from one show right into a complicated room re-set right into the next show. There was no break, no chance to disengage for a few minutes and of course, no food. I arrived at work at 4 pm and left almost exactly at 6 am. I freely admit, I don't like rap. At least not hardcore rap. And this was all "niggah this" and "Muthafucka that" and drugs and guns and "beat the bitchez" and everything I hate about the art form. It makes me angry. And sad. I don't like hearing it. I don't like celebrating it. I don't like being in a room full of people who think this form of communication is acceptable. I left work tired, with a headache and absolutely ravenous.

Waking up this afternoon, with barely enough time to have some coffee, grab a shower and a sandwich, and I had finally had enough. But as the day wore on I began to try to figure out how to make this an advantageous move for myself. I decided that giving my notice could result in my being let go on the spot and while I could deal, it would be a struggle financially. So by the time I arrived at work I had decided to put in two more weeks before giving two weeks. It was a done deal in my mind. I had carefully weighed the advantages to my job versus the disadvantages and decided the bad far outweighed the good.

Then tonight, my boss couldn't have been nicer and couldn't have been more complimentary. I believe she's a better judge of how far she can push a person than I thought. Of note tonight is that one of the other managers had a meltdown. I wasn't there but whatever happened resulted in him being sent home. Not in a negative way in a mental health way. They want him back, he just had "an episode". That's how intense a job I have, children. Grown men flip the fuck out. And you don't get fired you just get a time out.

But here's the thing. Between my boss crawling up my butt and telling me how happy she is that I'm around and what a great job I'm doing and one of my co-workers (who I really liked and considered a capable manager) snapping like a dry twig, I'm sort of responding to the challenge and the warrior in me is urging me to fight on. A part of me wants to wrestle this bitch to the ground.

I'm going in to work again tomorrow. We'll see ....