We’ve only been together for two months now, but I have grown fond of you. I know that I am only an underling in your fabulous open relationship and that you have many a corporate cretin within the confines of your dull receptacle who would do a lot more for you than I. But whatever we have is special to me, and I imagine it is for you as well. You are an angel, an easygoing, nonchalant, slightly monotonous angel. You don’t care when I come into work. In fact, you are probably amused by my inconsistency because it sets me apart from the others. You also probably don’t mind that I spontaneously take days off with little to no notice. I’m playing hard to get. It keeps you on your toes. And the fact that I spend my days here reading articles, formatting papers, and doodling on the office notepads (basically everything except my actual task) is probably refreshing to you in your otherwise mundane and scheduled life. But don’t get me wrong. Despite rarely doing what I’m supposed to be doing, I love working here.
I love how you always keep an abundance of shitty coffee in the break room that I accidentally keep convincing myself to try again. I love how you waft delicious, juicy smells around my cubicle during lunchtime as I sit there chewing on my fetid, rubber-y Starbucks panini. I love how easy you make it to eavesdrop on my colleagues’ stories about their impressive jujitsu lessons, their unfathomable children, and, if I’m especially lucky, their children’s jujitsu lessons. Trust me. You know how to make a woman happy.
Last week you asked if I wanted to stay with you throughout the fall, and I happily rejoiced. Today, you asked me if I would consider a full-time position here, and now I’m starting to feel a little overwhelmed. Things are moving too fast. Your insufferable demands preclude me from enjoying my free-spirited life, which include day drinking beer, writing nonsense, and updating my twitter bio.
So, let’s just chalk it up to a summer fling, a short and civil courtship, maybe even a blissful mistake.
Don’t worry. I will never forget my firsts with you, like the first time I pooped in your bathroom (your flush system is weak, bro) or the first time I stole a pen from your supply closet (actually, I stole a few other office supplies too) or the first time I went to a “stand-up” meeting (those are slated to run five minutes, but you insisted on keeping us standing for a full 30 minutes).
Anyway, I’ve had a really great time, and you will be sorely missed. But don’t fret. I’m confident that there will be many more motivated, type-A, experience-seeking students in the upcoming years to fill the gaping hole that I have undoubtedly left in your heart. Best of luck!