10 Reasons To Quit Your Job Today

The game is over. That game where they get to hire you for 40 years, pay you far less than you create, and then give you a gold watch, and then you get bored, you get depressed, and you die alone.

It wasn’t that fun of a game anyway.

When I had a corporate job I would wake up depressed. I couldn’t move out of bed. The sun would be coming in. A cat on the fire escape staring at me through the window. Even it was more excited to be alive than me. And, by the way, I had the best job in the world. I interviewed prostitutes for a living at three in the morning.

But they were going to kill me in my cubicle.

I told my dad, “I’m a lucky guy.” He said, “But are you lucky in love?” I was six years old. Love was the most disgusting thing in the world to me. What the hell was he talking about? Love was living in another neighborhood at that time. Or another planet. It would be years before Love stuck its ugly little nose into my house and said, “hello, anyone here?

Luck was all about rolling the dice. Or finding a quarter on the ground. Or seeing a double rainbow after a quick storm.

But now I’m different. I’m constantly checking in and out of the Hospital of No Luck. I’m older. I need luck to be constantly transfused into me or I run out of it. Without luck, I’m dead. For me, good luck equals happiness. On a scale of happiness from 0 to 10, I think I’m about a seven or eight. But that’s a big improvement. When I was lying on the floor here, I was probably about a zero. Or at different points in this story, I was maybe at negative. So I’m trending upwards. I get lucky when I stick to three simple goals:

I was brought into the office of the head of the company and he said, “your contract is up and we won’t be needing you anymore.” I asked. “Can I stay a few days more to just finish what I was working on?” And he said, “No. You need to leave today”. He had thick blonde hair, blue eyes, a square jaw, was about fifty and looked a little bit like Robert Redford. He smiled at me then. Thats the last thing I remembered. His smile almost blinded me. I hate him. I was barely put together. I felt like the worst loser. I couldn’t understand. I thought I had been doing good work. But suddenly I was damaged goods.

Another time I was…And another time I did…And another and another and another. I’ve been fired so many times I can’t list them all. I can’t possibly make you cry over my sorrows because we all have them.