Sunday, September 26, 2010

I quit my job

I knew it was time to move on when I finally succeeded in high-fiving my boss. He's a fifty-something former Israeli soldier who rarely understands my humour. I once jokingly referred to myself as a man in front of him, resulting in neither a chuckle nor a smile, just sincere confusion over my gender (although perhaps I have overestimated my feminine charm). My first attempt to high-five him ended in a very awkward head-level handshake, but after a few more tries and a quick demonstration, we progressed to slapping our palms together and then shaking hands (still at head-level). Two years later we completed an ordinary high-five, and shortly thereafter I gave my notice. I should have guessed that since he doesn't know when I'm joking, he's also not sure when I'm serious.

boss: what time can you come in on Monday?

co-worker: tomorrow's her last day. She wont be here at all on Monday.

boss: WHAT?

me: I told you that. Three weeks ago, remember?

boss: I didn't think you were serious.

It would have been much worse had I followed through on my original plan to give him a resignation letter consisting simply of the sentence "See you later, alligator." After two more conversations about my departure, my boss and I finally reached a compromise: he would take me off the schedule, but leave me on the payroll.