G is for Groceries

 I worked in the deli at the neighborhood grocery store while I was in undergrad. When I moved out of Ex's house, I still worked there, but the stress was too much. Every time anyone walked in the door (and in a grocery store, that is all the time) I would do a double-take, so afraid it was him.
                               
Like he cared enough to come find me. Shows how delusional I was. My world was over; his was business as usual. Before I came to that realization, however, I was about to go crazy, so I quit. I just didn't feel safe there anymore.

Then: Graduated with BA in chemistry, divorce was finalized (he didn't show up), dental school started, I slept on the floor in front of my couch and lost 25 pounds, didn't make the GPA cutoff for the first two semesters, went before the academic standards committee, was given a year to get myself together and return, broke the scaphoid bone in my left wrist, wore a cast for eight months, physical therapy for three, worked for my doctor as a receptionist, went back to school, missed the GPA cutoff by 0.01, had to find a job, went back to the doctor's office, but my brain was so messed up, I couldn't do it.

                        

Whew! Went back to the grocery store and have been working there for about six months. Went back to school for undergraduate English classes to pursue a masters in publishing, found a really good, writing-related full-time job, LOVE it, quit tutoring (oh, yeah, I was tutoring algebra and ACT prep) and tried to quit the grocery store.

First, she got really mad and started yelling at me. Then somehow, she convinced me to agree to work every-other Sunday. Why? Just let me go, right? So why am I telling you all of this? Well, I didn't make it in yesterday. A manager called me 45 minutes after I was supposed to be there, and I told him, truthfully, that I dreamt I called and quit for good.
                                
I feel like I need to call my deli boss and apologize for quitting like that. My good friend says it's her fault for bullying me into staying. I know she will yell. I hate being yelled at. I tried to give my two-weeks notice; she should have just taken it. Look at me, blaming her for my no-call-no-show. I don't know what to do about that. I do know I'm not going back. I hated that job, and I don't need it anymore. And I gave my notice! And worked the first Sunday I was scheduled.

My posts don't usually go on this long. I'm upset about it. Stupid Ex. I'll just blame him for the whole snowball. Now that is where the blame belongs.