Well, Yellow’s last day is Friday. I’m going to miss that dorky motorcycle riding guy.

Yellow’s resignation is the latest in a long string of rats fleeing from a burning cane field: the head of our entire branch of the org, Mr. Dollar, resigned two months ago. My dearest boss ever (who once brought *me* coffee – which was probably the sexiest thing a man has ever done for me), Blaine, resigned last month to spend his time at his lake house (he deserved it), and Mr. Dollar’s second just resigned two weeks ago.

When all the rats start jumping, you know it’s time to go. The only bright spot is that my new boss is Sarah, our construction manager, who is getting a much deserved raise to Project Manager. So at least I know I won’t be working for a fucktard. Sarah is awesome.

Unfortunately, as usual, no one has responded to the frantic resumes I’ve lobbed out into the world, not even the temp agencies. When Yellow came in and said Friday was his last day, I moaned, “How come I’m the only one who can’t find a job!?”

I need to get serious about it. The actual “job” finding isn’t the hardest part – the hardest part is finding something in my salary range. I’ve gotta make at least 40K if I’m ever going to dig myself out of the last of my debt and put money into savings.

And, um, buy books.

And some fish.

Ah, you see my problems.

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