Ok, well, I offically quit my job about two weeks ago (had to put my notice in), but you get the idea. My poor manager. He's probably still recovering.
I think I'm still slightly shaken up over it. I've spent almost three years in that store. I know it better than I know my own home. I helped make it what it is. And I was of the last three people there who held that store together.
I kind of feel like I'm copping out, y'know? Like I should have stayed there - tried to fix it somehow. My new job is basically the same as my old one, just with a title and better pay. And a whole bunch of strangers that I don't know.
I'm both excited and terrified. I know it's not a professional job, and if you had told me back when I was in college that I'd be where I'm at now, I'd have muttered some creative obscenities in your direction.
And now? Now I accept it.
I started said new job today. The day started bright and early, and I was given my first set of new shirts to wear. Much to my delight, they are of a tee-shirt fabric (rather than the burlap sacks I used to wear). Much to my disappointment (and chagrin), the shirts? Made me look like a cheap two-cent hooker. Woohoo.
I had been told that the shirts were a men's medium. I don't know if they're going by european sizes, or what the hell type of men they're using for sizing purposes, but the shirts? Are far too small in all the wrong places. It should be illegal. False advertising! Seeing as how my chest area is far from tiny (38C if you really want to know), I look like I should start dancing burlesque at any moment. Oy.
Free lap dances to people who adopt!
Also? The A/C was far from working well. So, there I am, in the middle of a brand new store, sweating like a pig with a skin-tight shirt on.
Let me tell you. It was hawt.
I know most of that will come in time. After all, today was my first day, right? Eventually I'll get to that point where I'm familiar with people. I hope.
But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't slightly terrified. Guess I'll just see how it plays out.