Feel it dude, it's gratitude

As you might have guessed by the tone of this blog, I've been in a bit of a rough patch lately. I'm having trouble concentrating on work and I can't stop fretting about finding something to do this summer. That being said, studying the law, in particular at this school, beats the everlovin' heck out of my old job. Really now, who leaves a job they like to take on piles of debt and move to a new time zone?

Therefore, in hopes of bucking up and feeling a little more grateful for the privilege of spending hour upon hour in the library, I present myself (and you) with the top ten reasons I quit my old job.

1) My cube. No window, no light, minimum decoration, lest people come over more often to see me blogging and listening to internet radio. The cubicle is such a stifling method of office organization that I counted among the benefits of working in my corner of the floor the fact that it was low-traffic (nobody bothering me) and the lack of screen glare from a window.

2) The neighborhood. Full of marble and concrete government buildings, when the few trees between Judiciary Square and Union Station weren't in bloom, the landscape didn't even show the full range of grays available at the paint section of Home Depot.

3) The steam table joint where I ate lunch most days. Sure, the cashiers were really nice. Sure, they let me fill my tray all over again for free when a Capitol Police officer knocked my tray over. Sure, duck quesadilla day was the best (it was probably just chicken, but whatever). Still, the DC steam table lunch is eerily analogous to the plight of the office worker: there are many choices, but they're all flavorless and will make you fat and lethargic.

4) Showing up by 8. Ten months out of the year, the sun wasn't up when my alarm went off, which made me perpetually tired. When I got to the Metro stop near work, one escalator at my exit was always undergoing repairs, which meant that people going in both directions used the same (stopped) escalator. Lines formed, as if the dreary warren of office buildings was some sort of exclusive nightclub and we were the worthless peons angling for a chance to bump up against Paris Hilton.

5) The chances of advancement. Nil. My boss's boss had it in for me from day one, probably because my boss hired me during a staffing crisis while he was away on vacation. He came back and I was there.

6) No happy hours. Every time someone quit (about once every other month), my office got a long table at the dark, depressing bar around the corner from the office to have a "happy hour." I never had any fun. The really cool co-workers had to leave early to be with their families. Happy hours are where workers are supposed to bond. If you never go for drinks after work, you never bond. It's not that hard to understand.

7) Lack of Communication. My boss had an office; I had a cube. Therefore, we never spoke casually and I seethed with the sort of resentment you can only build up against someone you don't speak with casually. The entire operation consisted of little more than two dozen people. I only saw some of the only people who worked at the other side of the office in the men's room. I don't like to talk on the can -- they did.

8) Being broke all the time. I worked two jobs and still had to order PBR when I really wanted Yuengling. I only saved a buck, but it seemed worth it at the time, given DC rent.

9) The people I had to deal with on the phone. In the interests of not giving too much away, I won't say exacly who I needed to speak to on the phone, but here's a hint: they were on opposite sides of the political spectrum and they used yours truly as a conduit through which to yell at each other.

10) The sinking feeling I got every morning in the elevator up to the office. I don't get that here, thank God.