This morning, I placed a call to the contact my dad gave me at the denver newspaper agency. I'll be going in to interview next week (a mere formality -- being hired is almost certainly assured, although being retained isn't), for orientation on May 30, going out to train with someone else on Friday, June 6, and starting work on Saturday, June 7. Life moves like lightning.

My plan when I went into the deli this afternoon was to give 2 weeks notice. But then, after I walked in, a funny thing happened. I got cold feet. Do I really mean it? Do I really want to do this now? What if $any_number_of_things go wrong with this venture? Then I would have no job, no income at all. Whoa.

So I held off, and did my work as normal, and spent my entire shift with these thoughts running around in the back of my head, under the rationale that I can still give two weeks' notice tomorrow, and still have several days of padding between the jobs.

But really, if I'm honest with myself, what's to think about? My decision is already made.

In what might be my first time quoting The Matrix Reloaded, the words of the Oracle come to mind. Since I haven't seen it enough times to remember the exact words, I'll paraphrase. "You didn't come to see me so I could help you make a decision. You've already made your choice. The reason you came to me was to find out why."

I'm ready to take a risk again. I'm ready to try something different. I'm ready for a new challenge. I'm tired of the deli. I'm want to end my current torture, even if it only means replacing it with another more exquisite form of torture. (Every form of pain, as well as pleasure, must be tasted at least once, if only to experience the sensation.)

So why didn't I give notice, aside from the fake second guessing of my own decision? Well, for one thing, from the moment I walked in, until the manager left for the afternoon, it was quite busy. A "good time to talk" never presented itself. It would be much more optimal to do it when things are calm than to spit out, in between customers waiting in line, "By the way, I'm quitting this job and will be gone after next week." Blah.

But I guess the other, bigger reason is that even though I'm more than ready to be out of there, I do not salivate at the prospect of breaking the news. By and large, everyone in that deli, manager included, has been really nice to me ever since Day 1. Even though I know it's not entirely logical, I can't help but worry that they might feel slighted that I am jumping onto the first bus out of town. Or something like that.

So I try to think of ways that I might say it so as not to bruise anyone's feelings.

"No, there is absolutely nothing wrong with this place. I've loved every singly moment that I've spent here [ha ha ha], and now it's time for me to pursue new challenges and new opportunities."

Sure. That'll fly.

"I'm going for one simple reason. They're offering to pay me more. (Provided I do enough sales.) No hard feelings. It's all just business, as I'm sure you understand."

Well, whorish as it may sound, there is a certain grain of truth to that one. I figure if I'm going to have to be doing annoying, suck-it-up work, I may as well at least go for something where there's good cash. God Money I'll do anything for you.

"Haha, this place sucks, ya'll suck. And if this newspaper thing doesn't work out, I can always start a pr0n site and charge by the picture! That'll learn ya!" (And if I really wanted to be crass, I could tell all the females in the department about how I would be coming back to offer them jobs soon.)

I suppose if I am serious about quitting, a dose or two of roll-your-own trolling would be amusing. (But then again, I think that guy was probably a full time troll anyway, quitting or not.)

I am being such a nut about this. I still can't help but wonder if this is completely looney, to ditch my stable albeit low paying job for something with no hourly wage, where I have no idea how well I'll do, or how bearable I'll find it after a few 12-hour-long Saturdays and Sundays.

Maybe I am having second thoughts.

But again, ready to take a risk. Not a crazy risk, a calculated risk. Crazy risks = bad. Calculated risks = potentially good, if one is sane about it.

But anyway, I babble too long.

Bottom line: Tomorrow, I'm going to have to suck it up, swallow my apprehension, and break the news. No more procrastinating about it. The decision has been made. Time will tell whether it was a step in the right direction, or a dreadful mistake. I must do it before my days off this week. That means tomorrow. Oh goodie.