Sara Schaefer

As you know, I just quit my job. I had been fantasizing about this since the day I started
4.5 years ago. That’s sort of how it goes with a day job. You’re always dreaming of
that day when you get to tell them to take this job and shove it.

I had a lot of fantasies about leaving. Here were my most frequent job-quitting fantasies:

1. The “Ripping Computer Out of Wall and Throwing Through Window” Fantasy

2. The “Your Sexual Harassment Lawsuit Was Completely Justified, Here’s a Million
Dollars” Fantasy

3. The “Conan O’Brien Broke His Leg! Sara, We Need You To Take His Place – Tonight!”
Fantasy

4. The “Conan O’Brien’s Leg is Permanently Broken – Yes, We Know, It’s Very Strange!
We Think Maybe He’s Just Insecure Because You’re SO Good – So We Need You to Fill
in for Him - Indefinitely!” Fantasy

5. The "I am Really Just An Autistic Boy Playing With My Snow Globe" Fantasy

6. The “You Won the Lottery Without Even Playing” Fantasy

7. The “Conan O'Brien Just Won the Lottery Without Even Playing – and He Doesn’t Need It, So He’s Giving It To You, Sara, Because You’re His Best Friend” Fantasy

No matter which fantasy it was, they all ended the same way. I would come down the elevator, whirl through the revolving doors, burst out into a warm, sunny sky, and twirl about amongst the skyscrapers, screaming “YES!”, and jumping in the air.

And of course, dressed as shown.

Unfortunately, what happened in real life was a total let down.

I came to this job an innocent southerner who still believed in the goodness of humanity.

Four years later.

When it was all said and done, instead of being like Kelly Clarkon's "Breakaway", it was more like Violent Femmes "Kiss Off."

I pushed my way through the revolving doors, with four bags of stolen office supplies, and walked slowly to the subway.

To be continued…