Two Weeks Is A Lot Longer Than It Used To Be

On Saturday, March 6, 2009 I put my two weeks notice in at the Deli.

Or so I thought. As of now, a full SEVENTEEN days later, I am somehow still employed there- the place where dreams go to die and learn new definitions for the words "two" and "weeks" (although you have to admire their "never say quit" attitude). So unless you're a sandwich loving Hispanophile, making a shit ton of sandwiches and learning how to say "I need more fruit dip" in Spanish may not be your dream job. (But if you are, my GOD what are you doing here? RUNDONTWALK to the nearest meatbread factory you can find).

Last Friday this exchange occurred:

Manager1: Chris, there have been these rumors going around here that I think we need to talk about.

At this point, I'm excited because I LOVE rumors. But excitement is quickly replaced by utter confusion.

Manager1: I heard through the grapevine that you might be quitting.

What I Should Have Said: Huhwhat? You "heard" that I was quitting? I AM quitting, I already told Manager2 a week and a half ago. And more importantly, who still says "heard through the grapevine"? My last day is tomorrow. Jesus.

What I Actually said: Well, um... yeah I thought I... didn't you talk to Manager2?

Manager1: Well I just wanted to ask you if you were happy.

Sidenote: saying that you wanted to ask and ACTUALLY asking are two completely different things. So I'm not actually responding to a question because one was never asked, but I'm just being a douche so let's continue.

Me: Of course I'm happy.

Manager1: Okay, good. We were worried you were going to leave.

Obviously this is where I should have cleared the air and said that I was actually going to leave, but instead choose to go home because I was hungry and confused. In hindsight this was a good decision because I had Chipotle.

Then on Saturday I was ready to tell them that "oh hey today is my last day good luck," but they decided to have the closing manager be someone completely new (who looks exactly like Gollum/Smeagle from Lord of the Rings... that's not really important but it is hilarious/unfortunate). My message had to wait until Monday because I'm a sucker.

Monday comes around and I finally tell them. Mind you these past two weeks ALL the employees know that I put my two weeks in because I told them I did. Their reactions ranging from the usual "I'll miss you" to the "stop being a little bitch and don't quit" (which coincidentally I think is Spanish for "I'll miss you").

Manager3: So you want to put your two weeks in?

Me: No. I already did. Two weeks ago. Technically, I'm not even here, but my name is still on the schedule. I thought it was a little weird.

At this point, my manager begged me to stay at least for the rest of week so I could train a new hire. Wanting to avoid this song and dance again, which at this point had reached Macarena status, I agreed.

But as my last act of defiance I'm not shaving. Take THAT anti-facial hair policy. Plus they might send me home early if I don't. I'm really sticking it to the man.