Let's carpool tomorrow so I can leave my car at the train station

"Uh, hello? Are you listening?" said my (soon to be) ex-coworker.

"What? Oh, no." ....At least I'm honest.

How could I pay attention? I swaggered into the (soon to be) ex-office at noon after having to deal with a networking/security deposit debacle at my old apartment community (I won't give you the opportunity to pry). So no, I don't want to hear about your love for the Arctic Monkeys (great band, by the way). I've got too much stuff to do. From there the day consisted of:

(soon to be) ex-coworker: "Hey, Chris, can we sit down at some point and go over the Fire Marshal contact and approval procedure?"
"Yeah, absolut--" *phone rings* 
Send to voicemail
"Anyway--" *voicemail chimes* "Hang on one second"
Check voicemail

Social Media Client:"Mr. Musto!! I don't even know why I have your cell phone number, you're never going to answer anyway. It's your best client, I need to talk to you immediately about some plans I had for some upcom--"

Cell phone rings interrupting the voicemail
Hold up a finger to the (soon to be) ex-coworker

"Hey Chris! Were you able to get in touch with that contact at the club you had for my birthday party tonight?"
"Oh shit, I'm so sorry, let me call him as soon as I hang up with y--"
Office line rings
"Let me call you back."

Answer office line
Cover mouthpiece to the office phone.
Address soon to be ex-coworker: "Can we do this a little later?"
"Yeah sure, we'll schedule a time"

Pick up the office line

"Hey Chris? Hi. We're a client with the Home Show?"
"Is that a question? If not, that's fantastic news, sir."
"Hah! No, it's not a question! I was just wondering if you knew where emails went when they got deleted?"
"That's pretty heavy stuff sir, I'd like to think they go to a better place than here, a giant golden inbox in the sky."
"Haha, no well we were cleaning out old emails in preparation for your exhibitor kit and we deleted all of our inbox on accident, I was wondering if you could help us."
"Well sir, we're not an IT firm so--"
"No, I know, but just take a few minutes and help us out"
"Well sir what I can do is go ahead and take this opportunity to hit you in the head with a tack hammer in hopes that the resulting contusion will scar and form a mass that can function as a temporary brain for you. Then I will transfer you to IT."
*Cell phone rings*

Ok, I made that last part up. Don't do that. But you get the point. This transition process is hectic.

Call the 'Wah'mbulance, I signed up for this, I know. But that's not the point of this, so back off and jam your foot apparatus into your mouth for a second and keep reading. The point of this little self proclimation is that, never in my life have I ever felt more alive, and more amped. Not due only to the nervous excitement of leaving my job and taking a risk, but it's just an intense sense of purpose. I'm not changing the world by doing Social Media Marketing and training people to take over my position as an event coordinator, but regardless of whatever I'm doing (or not doing), I'm doing (or not doing) it for me. It's my stamp on it. People will directly equate the service with me, not some company I can hide behind the veil of. It's mine. If I was a dog, this would be my opportunity to spread my golden mark all over the fire hydrant that is the world. Disgusting? Yes. But inspriational? I hope so.

I bailed out of the office around 6:30 and took the train into Penn for the evening, since myself and Phil had a meeting of the minds with our lead graphic design/web master/cool dude Serge to go over our business cards/logo design. Creating. We are men. We make fire.

It wasn't long on the subway before I had a crippling stomach ache. Oh god. Poison? Have I reached some incredible status that I have an assassin out ther--oh, I haven't eaten yet today.

Getting to Phil's house, I made that abundantly clear as I proceeded to eat:

• a bowl of frosted mini-wheats
• 2 packs of starburst gushers (AWESOME, by the way).
• a buffalo chicken salad
• spinach and artichoke huumus and a sleeve of wheat crackers
• a pack of sour patch kids

Take THAT, Paleo diet.

After I was satiated we proceeded to do contract agreements and logo design discussion until I had to catch the 12:50am train, which was an advenutre again...

"Hey man, it's 12:15, you shouldn't dilly-dally, especially since you missed the train yesterday." said Phil wisely.
"I'll be fine, not going to let THAT happen again."

Ok.

Later that train...

A meteoric gap in between subway trains means I'm cutting it close no matter how much time I think I have. Electric blue button down in hand, I step onto the train at 12:30am and have to go from 116th to 34th. About 15 minutes in travel time, which my 4th grade math tells me that will leave me 5 minutes of lead time to get from subway to train home. However, some factors worth noting:

• I need to purchase a ticket for the train home
• There's construction on the subway tracks

As the train pulled up to the Penn Station stop at 12:48, I was waiting at the exit door like a Derby Horse at the starting gate. If I miss this 12:50 train, the next one is 2:50, not 1:50. I will be getting home at 2am, or 4am. Only this sprint will decide.

And with a sprint worthy of Michael Johnson recognition, dodging baby carriages (yeah, WHO has their kid out at 1am?) and hurdling homeless along the way, I hit the stairs to track 15, hear the "WE'RE CLOSING THE DOORS NOW" beeping, jump down the remaining six stairs, roll ungracefully and lunge through the doors like a Musto rag doll, face down. Doors closed. I'm going home.

"Tickets, please."

Bummer.

Days left at the old job: 12

Daily Stats
Hours of Sleep Night Prior - 3
Hours of Sleep That Night - 3
Bums Hurdled - 2
Babies Dodged - 1
Phone Calls Handled - 147
Cars Abandoned at Train Stations - 1

Fortune Cookie: No matter what happens in life, know that you are a better singer than Nicki Minaj.