Last week I quit my job at Cobs breads. The hours were 1am to 9am, there was an hour commute, and the wage was awful – I didn’t even last the whole training period.
Nobody was surprised I quit when I told them; some even guessed before I said anything. Natalie, for example, new before a word came out of my mouth, and she’d only met me once before.
It was the night I quit that she guessed, actually, shortly after I left the house at 12am with a coffee to walk off my still nocturnal schedule. Natalie’s a girl I met at Tequila Bookworm. We were alone in the upstairs room – I was reading, she was writing on her laptop. Natalie walked over happy and confident, and asked if she could sit down and talk to me. We talked, mostly about writing, until I had to leave for my 1am shift.
Our second meeting was the night she guessed I quit, on the corner of Spadina and Queen. She had just left Tequila: “Are you off to work?”
“Oh, you quit!”
I asked her how she new. “Just a feeling,” she said.