Day One Hundred Forty-Two

I got up early for a walk, which made me proud considering that I’d had an exceptionally full day on Tuesday, and a late night. Work was about as fun as a day spent furiously trying to tell yourself not to own the walking-away-from-a-ten-year-job anxiety could be.

I followed my diet scrupulously all day, with one exception: I allowed myself one beer at the bar where I met Karen and Allan. What can I say? When a good friend asks if you want to have one last after-work beer before you leave, you say “Yes”.

I checked my messages before boaring my train at Grand Central. There was one from my Keane manager who, after talking to my boss, “needed” me to be at the New Jersey office from 9 to 5 for my last two days. That’s right. My boss, after pissing away nine weeks of the extended time I was gracious enough to give, has woken up and realized that he’s in a crunch, and is throwing his weight around with my Keane manager. After all the extra time I gave them they “need” me there from 9 to 5 instead of starting and ending my days in the Manhattan office as they agreed I would do.

I got home at around 8:20 and proceeded to do a long and vigorous workout routine. It was darned late to be starting a workout, but I absolutely needed it in order to blow off steam. I was so enraged that I didn’t know if I could speak to my Keane manager.

The workout did the trick: it left me feeling proud and strong, and drained off most of my anger and anxiety. I decided not to say anything to my Keane manager that would only serve to work me back up into a rage. Instead I called him at 10:00 and, when he said “How are you doing?” I replied “You pay for my ferry ticket and I’ll be there from 9 to 5.” He happily agreed for me to submit an expense report for the tickets, and that was that.

Two more days. Just two more days.


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