BY SAM PINK
I quit my warehouse job a week ago.
I was helping the head of security throw out garbage in the alley.
He’d just told me that last night when he was throwing out garbage, he saw a prostitute sucking someone’s dick.
I said, “Oh yeah, so I think I’m going to quit.”
He looked at me and said, “Oh shit, really. Ok.” He was nodding. “Man that sucks though. We all really like you and everything.”
“Oh man, thanks.”
We threw out the rest of the garbage without speaking.
Then he noticed my boots.
My boots were brown but I’d colored them black with a permanent marker.
“I ordered black but then they sent me brown” I said, explaining it to him. Then, before he reacted, I said,
“Best of both worlds” and thought about how that didn’t mean what I meant.
Felt like saying, “Hey just so you know, again, I quit.”
And for about eight seconds, the idea of not having a job made me feel like I could do anything I wanted.
There was nothing I wanted.
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