Now a misleading title if ever there was one, because it's also my last day at work - I hope - and this posting should reflect both.
Days pass. Few customers know of my leaving - few would care, only Z tells them in his efforts to bond with them. The Nephew and G, they've accepted my departure, G not happy as he suspects he's losing his day off, I've offered to help out the 2 weeks I'm around (research to be done, other things), he doesn't want to accept.
Whew.
The Owner has been manageable, in a better mood, as it were, now that I'm leaving - or he knows that I'm leaving, quiet about trivial things, he as well wants it to be on a good note. They're bringing in the Talking Waiter as my replacement.
I threaten the nephew with the keys to lock up, they'll be his next, he declines, never in a hundred years could he deal with that responsibility, M enters the conversation "I wouldn't take them either....", he has his own reasons, the nephew reassures him: "not to worry..." , meaning, of course, that he's not long for the course. A shame, I rather like him. M doesn't get it. It's almost too savage, this rivalry of theirs.
Those few customers that know I'm leaving, they express their admiration, some tempered jealousy. It's curious, they didn't flesh me out that deep. Some even go so far as to pretend they'll miss me. Polite. To do what you want, that's a luxury. I don't disclose how ill I can afford it. The staff, they'll miss me, some bitterness, they presume I'll be back, when exactly do I think?
Never I hope, but I'm merely optimistic. I say nothing, don't want to burn my bridges, merely point out that if things work out I won't have to ever come back.
The biggest proof of failure would be to return. The goad in my side, walk farther, search harder, make sure you never have to return.
Better to die in the field than return.
That said, I'll miss them. My family, G, The Nephew, The Owner, even M and Z - of dysfunctional sorts - the past 2 years almost.
It's not easy leaving, and to an uncertain and precarious, ridiculous even, future, doubly so.
I'm amazed - really, by the slight resistance I've encountered. A crazy idea, to me even, but few - only a couple, have pointed it out. The rest - politely, reserve their opinions, a few ripost me as I might them about bears and the perils of the North Woods, but still wish me well, marvel at the adventure (the adventure I'm not feeling even slightly at the moment, only the pressure of organizing countless tiny chores ...), this is curious.
Even myself, I'd give me 50/50 for breaking even and 1/1000 for getting rich, I see the inherit insanity of it, the other side which I imagined to be invisible to everyone else is transparent. The owner talks to me outside, quiet, having a cigarette, of the folly of property, ownership, we should all live on the move, on the wing, he feels it as well.
Pressure. There's a lot of people not to let down. Fail at this and I don't just fail myself, but the children, my co-workers, friends, any number of people who felt themselves trapped in a box from which there was no easy escape. I've come to look upon it as an exercise in the force of my will, failure proof of my countless bad qualities, success as the tangible, demonstrable, exemplary proof of my ideals.
***
That said there's much to be done, and the imminent departure only adds to the stress.
I compose lists.
Things to buy, research to do....
Maps, Hip Waders, Nesting screens of varying gauges, build a sluice-box, water-filter for drinking, cheap watch with altimeter and barometer, pepper spray and flare guns, learn to use GPS, annotate maps with notes and history, existing claims, find places I think will yield profit. The more I think upon it, the more I need. Groceries, miscellaneous household chores, renovations, art projects, writing projects.
The lists become endless.
They only add to the stress. The staff, they imagine I must be looking forward to this, I am, but not yet, there's too much to be done.
***
The week conspires to tell me I've made the right choice. Every lunch tables stay late, every dinner tables arrive early. Lunch table leaves 3:00, Dinner table arrives at 4:30. Lunch table leaves 4:30, dinner table arrives 4:30. I'd be mad, livid, but it's always been this way and I'm almost done. It confirms my decision. The customers, Money and Power, other assorted criminals of different stripes, everything is telling me I'm on the right track. The job is killing me. The new job will be better.
Now to make it work.
***
It's the first week of garage sales and today I take advantage of a slight break between shifts to dash out and hit one. It's Terrific, buckets of vintage costume jewelry at discount prices, I rifle through it all, pick out some pieces that I like, there isn't time enough, really I could spend hours, some parting souvenirs - cufflinks, jewelry, for the staff. Mixed media for myself. An auspicious start to the weekend.
***
And now, 6:30 AM, The Good Samaritan Rummage sale in 2.5 hours, I'll be in line in an hour, after that St. Lukes and other sales, a big morning before the last night at work. Lots to be done and searched for, Urban Prospecting as it were...The weekend will be reported on and rated as it passes...