HOTEL CALIFORNIA

“…you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave…”

Another beautiful, sunny, tropical Saturday in Coconut Grove. It certainly feels like déjà vu, and I guess it is. After I’m done here at work, I’ll have logged in 88 hours this week. I think the key number is three. I *almost* quit three times this week. Almost. Thursday night, I was here until 3:30 a.m. That was the breaking point for me. I had a nice talk with myself aloud. I cursed at myself for falling into this ‘your life is your work’ state that I’m in right now. I complained that I was sitting here at 3 a.m. like an asshole, working my ass off for management who don’t give a shit, for clients who rant and rave, for illogical and fee-hungry auditors, and for staff that I can’t keep from being disgruntled. I complained that I worked 12 hours a day and then had to drive an hour home on the brink of mental exhaustion. I complained that I promised myself I wouldn’t do this ever again and yet I broke my promise. I complained about the email saying ”2-week assistance program.” I complained about my weeks meals consisting of nothing but chips, doughnuts, cookies, snacks and, of course, iced coffees.

I told myself to just say, “fuck it,” and walk out the door. I tried to convince myself to do it. “C’mon man, just walk, this shit isn’t worth it.” I tell ya, if I was single and had no obligations, I’d have done it. But life’s complicated. It’s not that easy anymore. The court isn’t gonna say, “oh so you just walked out? Oh, don’t sweat it man, we’ll cancel your alimony and child support payments.” And the choice to simply not work the overtime is complicated. The job and the project are complicated. I can’t just say, “I’m leaving, you guys figure it out.” This is what they pay me to do. But what I would ask of them is for a little reciprocity. I didn’t get any for Gilligan's Island. I haven’t gotten much for making numerous concessions in my personal life. So for not bringing these matters up to management, *that* I am guilty of.

I *did* have a heart-to-heart with the Managing Director on Friday. I told him how close I was to quitting and why I was thinking of leaving the company. I told him about Gilligan’s Island and all the crap I’ve been through for this company without hardly a thank you. I told him about the straw that is breaking the camel’s back. Oh, didn’t I tell you about that? No? Well, right in the middle of that horrible 19-hour Thursday, my real boss called me to check in with me. I hadn’t heard from him in weeks. I relayed all the horror stories of this project. He had absolutely no idea. So we chit-chatted and then out of nowhere, he gives me an oh-by-the-way. That OBTW, was the straw. He told me he had signed up a new client out of the Tampa area. It was gonna be like a two-year project and I was the manager-in-charge. Thoughts raced through me. ’Scuse me? So like I’m gonna be traveling to Tampa for the next two years??? Are you out of your rock-pickin’ mind, Rubble {obscure Fred Flintstone reference, sorry guys}

Well obviously, there’s no way in hell I’m going to Tampa for two years. So now, I really need to get a game plan together to figure out what I want to do. And it’s not just a matter of doing this same old shit for a different company. That isn’t the answer. The answer lies elsewhere. What do I *really* wanna do with myself? And for that question, I had no answer for myself. I need the answer but just don’t have it yet. So for the immediate six weeks, I’ll be here. I’ll be here with all the crazies, lunatics, assholes, and disgruntles. After all, “we are all just prisoners here, of our own device.”