so, in what was about the most difficult moment in my "adult" life, i resigned on friday afternoon. as (sort of) documented in the previous post, the letter wasn't the difficult. that's a formality, i learned. the anxiety was the tough part.

i crawled in bed at about 115, a standard time, on thursday night. and then i didn't get to sleep until 345. 3-freakin'-45. a combination of several things, including some ill-timed (although not that late) coffee consumption, and an improperly-closing window that allowed some of the chill of the winter's coldest night to seep in. but mostly, it was nerves.

this would happen to me before the first day of elementary school, also, when i would have to start the radio two or three times before actually falling asleep. (the 59-minute sleep function, of course. i like not-silence.) but it's been a long, long time since something other than alcohol or (exclusively) caffeine kept me up like that, and it was awful.

so, i woke up, not refreshed. and the office was freezing. the plan was to get it done at 11, before lunch, bringing in both people to whom i'd feel obliged to resign. and i was nervous, and showed it. fidgety. walking around aimlessly. trying to look busy. i know i wasn't myself. in an effort to calm myself, i renamed the "resignation letter" file "GOOD TIME FUN." i printed two copies, then immediately sprinted to the printer. i signed the copies, folded them in half, then sat down and shook some more.

number 2 had a meeting at 11. scheduled to go "about 20 minutes," it was still going strong with no obvious signs of imminent end at 1135, thwarting the "double team" plan. so i resolved to talk to number one, the person who hired me, the person who may or may not have tried to steal my money (i'm 99 percent sure he didn't), the only person there who's been there longer than me (scary!), exclusively. he had something scheduled for 1 p.m., and was headed to lunch at noon.

so, shoulders more-slouched-than-usual, voice quavering... "hey, uh...you got a moment?" and then i waited for no answer and i closed the door and i sat down at the table in the office and handed over my letter.

and it lasted 25 minutes, and it went incredibly well. better than i could have hoped in my most optimistic moments. we reminisced a bit, even. (even though we haven't really gotten along since about june of 2003, i'd say.) i laid out some of my most basic ideas for the future - same job, different place; big city radio; small-town radio; player development... - and he asked if i had applied for another job known to be open in our league. i said i had. he offered to put in a good word for me when he sees their ownership next week. i don't think i told a single lie ("this has absolutely nothing to do with [events of november 9]" was again, about 99 percent true), and i'm fairly (80 percent) confident that he didn't either.

and then i went over the same things with number two, and he said, honestly [i think], that he'd be sad to see me go. he'd only been my boss for a year, but we've had gradually-increasing small-talk sessions over the last few months, mostly because i'm interested in his personal histories of 1960's psych-rock shows and excessive drug use, whether they're true or not. he appreciates that i'm interested, and embellishes.

the only downside of the pre-lunch events was that, predictably, number one wanted my letter to signify my "two weeks' notice lite," owing to the fact that he'd prefer to be owing me less. so i know i'm working monday the fifth. and i know i'm working tuesday the 13th and wednesday the 14th. and i'm reasonably sure that i'll be receiving my final paycheck and on december 16th, which is the day i set as my final day. and i'm pretty sure i'll be turning in my keys and my cell phone that day. and i know he agreed that i'll be owed for eight vacation days. but i don't know how much i'll work. i know i won't be working friday the ninth or monday the 12th, although i'd prefer to get at least one of those in the office.

other events of the day...
it was determined that, being that i'm a fringe-fringe-fringe-celebrity and that, more importantly, i count the local media folk among my closest friends [and so, therefore, i'll plan to call them personally with the news], there will be a press release regarding my departure. i'll publish that sometime early next week. because we'd be releasing publicly, and because two people in the office already had learned of my decision [i conferred with one...i apologized to the other], it was also determined that i'd personally tell the others rather than waiting for a staff meeting.

so my conversation with a newer coworker was sort of brief. i won't particularly miss him, although we're friendly. i've learned he's boring. when i told him, he got very sad to me. "i hope i find a new job. i don't think i really like this." i counseled him to wait for at least a year because, "you're not that employable right now." but it was a friendly use of the word "employable," referring to his just-graduated status.

my other conversation, with a coworker who just 'celebrated' his one-year anniversary here, an older coworker who took a deep pay cut and made a complete career change in his mid-fifties, was difficult. "you're fucking with me, right?" "i'm not." "you can't." "i have to." and then we talked about life. it probably lasted an hour, with starts and stops and some lingering disbelief on his part. "i'll miss you a lot," he told me.

i had told only two other people in the league of my plans (one sort of slipped out wednesday afternoon, and i told a second to dispel some of the nerves at about 945 friday, when he returned a previous phone call), and there was one other that i really wanted to get in touch with. mentor is the wrong word, but certainly he is somebody on whom i try to base a lot of my attitudes towards my work and, more importantly, towards people and towards life. we're pretty tight friends, although we've had only one social event together in four years.

i had left a voicemail on wednesday, when the decision was irreversible. i tried him again and got a "i'm on the phone right now" voicemail solicitation friday morning. when i called ten minutes later, he was gone. so i called again at 2:30. out. rather than voicemail, "can you just leave a note on his desk. it's sort of urgent." nothing by 3:48, so i tried again. "listen. i'm going to be resigning here, and i want him to know before it goes public. do you have his home phone number so that i can try this weekend?" and i got the number.

but then he called back at 415. and we were on the phone for a solid hour. and he said all the right things. affirmation of the decision was far and away the most important thing. encouragement was clearly the second-most important. and phrases like "friend for a lifetime" were neat to hear too.

so, i began the weekend completely happy. then i got home and fell asleep for three hours.

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following tonight's OT win over delaware state last night, dave eanat asked, "what does this team need between now and [its next name] december 13?"

response: "how about a seven-footer and a coupla guys who can hit some shots?"

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i know i'm about two weeks late, but i'd like to comment briefly on the ten-million per year given to b.j. ryan, who's had one good year. for obvious reasons, it's a universally panned deal (right?).

i've referenced one of my favorite websites, baseballreference.com here before, and i think they offer the most clear example on why this is a ridiculous deal.

according to "similarity scores," the players most similar to b.j. ryan are ricardo rincon and scott sauerbeck. congratulations, j.p. ricciardi, you're dumber than you look.

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in what could be an upset, the clientele's strange geometry is creeping closer and closer to the top of my albums of the year list. it's become the absolute "go-to" record when i've got nothing in mind. and it never disappoints. however, it's lushness makes it a perfect wintertime record, so i may be displaying a seasonal bias here.