Time to go

There comes a point when you know it's time to move on. That moment when you realize that you're holding onto something simply for the comfort and security that comes along with familiarity and not because there's any joy left.

I'm not unique, I know that. There's hardly a person in this world who enjoys their job. But maybe I am unique in the fact that I don't plan on sticking around a whole lot longer.

Ok, so I've been hating work for a long time. What finally made me decide that now is the time to make tracks?

It's simple really.

I can deal with the long hours. I can deal with the poverty level pay. After all, I just need to earn enough to pay off a couple of bills each month. Wil's job takes care of the major finances. I can even deal with the doctors and their pompous head up the ass attitudes. What I can't deal with is insensitivity and the exploiting of good people just to line their pockets.

Ok, so it's personal, really.

Today my old friend, Dick, had to euthanize his old dog. Happens every day, sometimes more times than I can count. It's part of working for a vet. Pets die. And I understand that we have to charge for services rendered, no matter how emotional or unpleasant. It's how we make our money. But really, is it necessary to charge the poor guy a $50 emergency fee on top of the fee for euthanasia and the fee for body disposal? Yeah, I didn't think so either.

I'd like to think that I'd feel the same way even if Dick weren't my friend, and I probably would. But to know Dick, to know his love for Sarah, and all the money he's spent helping her feel ok for the past several months. To know that Sarah's passing is just a symbolism for his wife who is at home with a tumor eating away at her brain a little more each day just makes it all the more insulting.

So I hope Dr. Ego enjoys his nice steak dinner tonight, courtesy of me, since I paid the bill myself. Not because I think Dick can't afford it, but because I refuse to charge him for it.

I'm so outta there.