Yesterday I was fired.
Technically, I quit, twice, after which Prancer declared that it wasn’t working out for him and I would have to find another position. O noes, rly?
It’s typical that even this conversation immediately deteriorated into a sophomore break-up. No, you’re not breaking up with me, I’m breaking up with you! Just picture me working for a short, podgy version of Ross Geller.
But only for four more weeks! Or less, if I land another contract sooner. Whee!
I should not be this happy to be unemployed in a maneating city like London. And the fellow buttmonkeys I’ve told shouldn’t have been so happy for me. And yet.
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