Fresh Start

I quit my fucking job. I had been dreaming about it for the better part of a year, but my creeping adulthood had kept me bent over and taking it. I was bored, under-paid, under-appreciated, and constantly held accountable for everyone else's actions, despite my entry level position. I took two weeks off in July, thinking it would calm me, numb me, prepare me for a few more months, at least.

It didn't. I spent the entire time thinking how nice it would be to be able to spend all my time on the beach, writing, drinking wine, and and watching the women walk by. I dreamed, and tanned, and spent every cent I had, telling myself "In a year, I will write professionally." So, I got it in my head that there was a better life for me, and I was going to go and claim it. I didn't prepare myself at all for my return to work.

When the morning finally came, I woke, got dressed, and climbed in the car, feeling very much like I was betraying myself by even going back. But I went. I was a grown man, and I had no business acting like a fucking child. I worked, put up with all of the same nonsense, and after thirteen tedious (if not murderous) hours, came home. I bitched about my day to Marie. The same things she had been hearing for a year. I added my new found bohemian philosophies, and she said "as long as you can pay your part of the bills, do what you want."

The problem is, the things I want to do aren't very lucrative, and mostly expensive. I went online, and filed a bunch of applications, and crossed my fingers. I didn't expect anything beyond sucking it up and wasting away in the same job. I just couldn't bring myself to quit because I was unhappy at my job. "Isn't everyone unhappy? Who the fuck am I to think that justifies me?" I thought.

I went to work the next day, checked my email, and found an interesting message. It told me that someone from the state had deemed it necessary to deduct some funds from my check. I was already scraping by. I called the payroll department and had them figure out how much I would then be taking home. It wasn't a lot. Less than my cell phone bill alone. My only option, was to look for another job, so, I called my manager (whom I had no real issues with, and felt sort of sorry for), and explained the situation. I offered to finish my shift, but told her I couldn't work another day there. My time was more valuable elsewhere. I quit. And felt weird about it. Like I had acted poorly. Like I had done something wrong. Like I had only quit because I was unhappy. But that wasn't the case, and now, instead of the measly amount I would have gotten if I continued to work, I would get nothing at all. I had bills. A wife. Sweat beaded. Despite my dreaming of a better life, despite my serendipitous exit, I was panicking.

"What the fuck do I do now?"

I began calling friends. Asking if their jobs needed anyone. I began following up on all of the online applications I filled out, getting nowhere.

Marie was worried.

I was worried.

Finally, a friend emailed me, and said that her job had an opening. Forty hours a week. Better pay than my last job. In the same field. Then, I got a phone call. One of the online applications I filled out went through. A cable-man position. $50,000 a year, company vehicle, gas card, great benefits. But it required that I sometimes travel for up to a week at a time away from Marie.

I didn't like the idea of continuing work in the same field that I was leaving, and I didn't like the idea of being away from Marie that long, but I couldn't help but think that the events were forcing me into a better life. I was miserable, and I was forced to quit my job. I was jobless, and two decent prospects fell into my lap.

It had to mean something.

I could be happy. I could live the dream. This was a fresh start.

So, I set up interviews, and away I went. In search of the great American... whatever.