Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Now that it’s morning, I don’t feel ready to face the day. I’ve been staring at my ceiling for the last hour or so, trying to dredge up some get-up-and-go, but it’s not happening. At this point, I have to acknowledge I can’t go to work today. Mentally, I don’t have it in me. I’m out of gas, so to speak, and I need to recharge.
My inner voice doesn’t hesitate to point out I’ve been out of gas for a while, since even the not totally awful days at my job are draining. I’ve been demeaned, demoralized, screamed at, and cursed out by Hadley more times than I can count. Instead of quitting, I’ve stayed, because of the stupid benefits. They mattered to me at six o’clock last night. But in the aftermath of being held at gunpoint? I see things differently.
Now I see that I’m chained to my job to the point that I never get to take any time off, which makes doctors appointments impossible to get. What good are those benefits I don’t use? Worse, what if when I finally do get to use them, I find out I have high blood pressure or an ulcer or some other stress-induced issue, because dealing with Hadley is killing me?
I can’t go to work with all this working its way through my head. I need a sick day. Long term, I know I need something even more than that. I’m not sure how to achieve that just yet, but I know a day to myself isn’t just a place to start—it’s absolutely essential. Sitting up, I push my long raven-colored hair back from my face, pull it back, twist it into a knot, and tuck the end piece in to hold it all together. Then I pick up my phone from my nightstand. Checking my alerts, I see that aside from text messages from Rob and Karen, there’s nothing else.
I cringe as another realization hits me. My friends used to call and text all the time to invite me out on the weekends, but I always had to say no because I was either working overtime or too exhausted to even consider getting dressed up to go out and drink. At some point, the calls and texts went from frequent to occasional, and I hadn’t even noticed. My friends moved on without me and I… well, I’m just going through the motions. I have to do something about my life. If I’d died last night, what would my friends have said at my funeral? I remember when Ashley was fun.
I mean, what else could they say? It’s true, after all. I used to be carefree and happy. I used to go out and have a good time. I used to be a lot of things. Now, I’m barely treading water. I need to get my priorities straight, and I need to do it now, because nothing in life is guaranteed. Step one is calling out of work for the day.
After a quick scroll through my phonebook, I press Hadley’s name and wait for the call to connect.
“What?” she barks.
No greeting. No pleasantries. Normally, her attitude would cause me to forego asking for anything. Not this time.
“Good morning, Hadley,” I say. As rude as she is, I’m always polite. “I’m calling to let you know I won’t be at work today.”
“What? Why?”
My knee-jerk response is to waiver, but then I think about how it felt having a gun at my head. In light of that, Hadley is nowhere near as terrifying as she once was.
“I was held at gunpoint during a store robbery last night. I need a mental health day.”
“A mental health day?” she shrieks, loud enough that I wince. “Just when I think you couldn’t possibly be more of a pygmy, you prove me wrong. Get your lazy ass up, get dressed, and get to your desk. And if you don’t want to find out what real hell is like, make sure to have my coffee ready by the time I get there.”
Her words flip a switch in my head.
I’m done.
So done.
Beyond, even.
“Hadley?”
“Yeah?”
“I quit.”
“Oh please, you little wimp—”
I raise my voice and cut her off. “That’s enough. As per the employment manual, my final paycheck will need to include all of my unused vacation, sick, and personal time, along with all of the hours I’ve put in during this payroll period.”
“Listen here, you good for nothing—”
My ability to deal with her abuse drops to zero, and my temper flares. “Shut your mouth and listen. I’ve put up with enough of your abuse and I won’t be taking any more. I’m sure your first instinct will be to try to mess with me, but I’d advise against it. If my final check isn’t here in a timely manner, I’ll be filing a complaint with the labor board. I’ll also reach out to the gossip vloggers on YouTube to tell them what a horrible person you are, and I’ve got the receipts to prove it. I never signed an NDA, Hadley. You don’t want to test me.”