I'm trying to develop a hard shell--much like the coating on an M&M--on the subject of leaving my present job. But it has been a struggle. Because of logistics with my new job, I'm only going to be able to give two weeks notice at my old job. This has, apparently, devastated my boss. I say apparently because she really isn't speaking to me. How is it possible that I can feel like a heel when I've done nothing but give appropriate notice after six years of exemplary service?
You know that movie Mean Girls? I feel like she's one of them. The Mean Girls. If you'd ever met her you'd know that she's got all the attributes: only child of divorced parents; spoiled; blond; blue-eyed All-American girl with the "charmed" life.
But I'm trying to rise above the boss bashing just because that's so last blog.
So I'm going home, curling into a ball, and hoping to wake up a brand new, candy-coated me.
**By the way, I know it is supposed to be "chocolate coating makes it go down easier" but I'm using some license, ok? I can do that and still be a dedicated Princess Bride fan, I promise.