The Aborted Rage-Quit
This is a picture I took on my way home from work last night. It's our production, shooting in Brooklyn.
Going into work Friday morning, I was convinced I might have to rage-quit my job.
It's weird when you find yourself braced for an argument that never materializes.
There's this one dysfunctional core in the team I've been working with...
(Oh!, Malice!, but what if she READS this??)
[She's NOT going to read this. NOBODY reads this. YOU'RE not even reading this right now!]
... and for whatever reason, I was convinced she was going to lay out some unreasonable demands on Friday, and I found myself readying for an argument. I even found myself playing out this imaginary argument in the shower that morning. Preparing to QUIT if I had to, figuring out how I was going to make it through the rest of the year without a job.
I was heading into the Thunderdome that day.
And nothing happened.
She was on good behavior. Everyone was.
There were no blow-ups. No incidents. Even at the very end of the day: nothing.
I had this odd sensation of dazed relief as I wished everyone a good weekend and walked away from the department last night, job intact. Because of the shooting schedule, everyone else in the department had opted to get a free meal at craft services, and they were all eating at their desks. ON A FUCKING FRIDAY NIGHT. What was wrong with these people...?
I walked to the subway, stunned that I had a job to go to at the end of the weekend.
August. Can I see this through to November?