There Comes a Day
There comes a day when you get sick and tired of having your common sense and abilities called into question three days a week and your soul sucked out of you for the sake of a part-time job that not only REQUIRES you to have a working car and a cel-phone that sends and receives text messages (unreimbursed) but has actually given you shingles and driven you into debt in the bargain. There comes a day, after four-and-a-half years, when you grow a spine, get fed up, tell the boss what the lay of the land is, write a resignation letter, leave the office keys on the office desk, lock the place up, walk out the door without any other job lined up, and start concentrating on the freelance art career you really want. This was that day.
There Comes a Day
There comes a day when you get sick and tired of having your common sense and abilities called into question three days a week and your soul sucked out of you for the sake of a part-time job that not only REQUIRES you to have a working car and a cel-phone that sends and receives text messages (unreimbursed) but has actually given you shingles and driven you into debt in the bargain. There comes a day, after four-and-a-half years, when you grow a spine, get fed up, tell the boss what the lay of the land is, write a resignation letter, leave the office keys on the office desk, lock the place up, walk out the door without any other job lined up, and start concentrating on the freelance art career you really want. This was that day.