The Decision

So I think I have decided to resign/get fired in the next two weeks. I'm done worrying about Penske. I'm done waking up in a sweat worried about my job. I'm done needing Xanax to calm down my anxiety. I'm done trying to explain myself for every decision I make.

My boss Mark is a small man. He's big in stature, in fact he's rotund, he's a walking Epcot as Dennis Miller might say, but he's a small man. Every colleague that came before me has understood that. Not everyone had a sinking economy to get blamed for though. I'm not the only one that's hated his guts, in fact most of the employees in the place do. He doesn't know, or doesn't care, but in my conversations with everyone else directly under him, we're all in agreement, but I was the only one that refused to debase myself for his approval. His assistant Jon is trapped. He wants to be a school teacher but can't muster the courage to quit. He has his own opinions but chooses to parrot the party line to please the big man. He's a coward. Maybe I'm a coward for quitting. Maybe, but it's better. It has to be.

JK