Today is my last day at Liberty Mutual. Only 3 people (out of 60) know that I’m leaving. Ball Grabber is not one of those 3. He’s on a need-to-know basis, and right now, he doesn’t need to know anything.
I start the new job on Monday. I’m not really sure what to think. I am still in denial about actually getting a fresh start at a new place. I can’t believe I’m finally getting out of here! (Actually, just typing that right now gave me a chill…I think the excitement is creeping up on me! Either that or I caught the bug that’s going around…)
I guess I should figure out a game plan for my new company. Maybe I should treat it like prison and stab a guy on my first day. Then I’ll have earned the respect of my peers from the start.
If nothing else, I definitely need to buy new pants. I’ve lost 11.5 lbs since last October. (exercise, people!) My work pants are literally falling off at this point. The last thing I need to do is moon my new coworkers. While I’m sure that could get me a few lunch invitations, if it happens to be a day when I’m wearing my “donut underwear” (with the word SWEET on the ass), no one will take me seriously ever again.
I was also thinking about stealing some office supplies before I left, but I guess I can wait and steal them from the new place. Besides, these cheap Staples-brand pens that Liberty orders don’t write for shit. Although, the building management that houses us buys some really nice toilet paper. I might help myself to some o’ that on my way out. Maybe even grab a handful of tampons for good measure.
It’s funny how certain things can trigger memories. I remember going sky diving two years ago. I went tandem and the instructor who got strapped to my back casually mentioned (as we sat on the plane, headed to our 14,000 ft drop) that that particular day was his last day of work.
Now, I don’t know about you, but I’ve been a total screw-off these last two weeks. I don’t care about anything and I’ve been doing just as much work as needed to not piss off my manager. Basically, I’ve been phoning it in.
So there I am, sitting in a plane with a guy on his last day on the job strapped to my back, and pretty soon we’re in the open doorway of a perfectly good airplane. He yells over the rumble of the engines, “On the count of three, we’re jumping!” I’m thinking, “This was such a bad idea on so many levels.”
“ONE!” Ohmygod, I am not ready for this.
“TWO!” I yell back, “I-DON’T-WANNA-DO-THIS!”
“THREE!” And we take the plunge. I guess he didn't hear me.
I didn’t close my eyes. I paid $200 to endanger myself like this, and besides, closing my eyes wasn’t going to make me any safer.
Obviously, you know it ended well. I survived and gave my tandem guy the biggest hug in the world and thanked him profusely for keeping me alive. Sure it was probably inappropriate, but somehow a simple handshake didn’t seem like enough.
And so people, the moral of today’s blog is this: You got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away and know when to run.
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