But ultimately decided better about it.
The TLDR: it was a way that hopefully would end in me being a martyr and EBM leaving.
Or at least shaken.
So yesterday, the plan was—and maybe still is—to submit my notice.
Except fwend reached out last night telling me that I shouldn't.
I can't.
So there's at least a couple people that either want or need me around here.
Which is touching.
When it comes down to it, that's not enough.
Not in the face of plans to self-terminate.
Ultimately, the fact is that nobody needs me here, and EBM doesn't want any of the process folk here.
Except Suze.
EBM had come over and asked one of the other process folk a question.
And it seemed to be going pretty well until...
"I know what it's for! I just..."
And then he huffed off in his typical EBM manchild hissy fit kinda way.
"When does Suze get back?" he asked someone else.
"Tomorrow."
"Thank fucking God," he said.
Two things:
But also:
We literally have an app that tells you when she's getting back.
Maybe if you checked your own shit, you wouldn't be so fucking clueless.
Stupid asshole thinks that because he (allegedly) got some kinda CS degree that he's some kinda genius?
No, asshole.
That means you're just smart enough to be dangerous.
Like a fucking toddler that just found its birthers' gun.
I've decided to redirect my notice to fwend for three hours to give her a chance to convince me it's the wrong idea.
But I verified my pension and disability last night and was surprised to find that because of what I'm guessing are COLA adjustments, they're both now totaling $5,000.
It's not enough to be rich, but it's enough to cover the expenses I need to survive with my wife and pets.
And yeah: I only discovered it because I normally don't check financial shit unless I feel it's important.
And this is pretty damn important.
$5,000 from those compared with $4,400 from this job... yeah, it's not worth it.
Because I'd take a pretty substantial paycut to remove the EBM tumor from my life.