A while back I said that I’m the VP of IT at the law firm where I work, but then I admitted that’s not true. I do work in the IT department, though. That part is true, so it’s not that big of a stretch. And right now database programmers can new jobs easily.

I’m saying this because I’ve been thinking over this weekend: what if I just went into work tomorrow with a box, filled it up with my stuff, and emailed the HR rep that I’m giving two weeks notice, effective now? I could walk out of the building, gone without saying goodbye to anyone, out the door before most people drag themselves in.

Most of that two weeks is during the Christmas break, and nothing’s happening the other three days. I’ve got more than three weeks of unused vacation my company would pay me for, and I’m sure I could find a new job before my money ran out.

Right now, the idea of just vanishing sounds great. Maybe Jane would notice. More likely not, though. I can’t believe she asked me if I was going to the Christmas party, and then arrived with someone else. Except now that I write that, I realize she probably asked forty or fifty people that exact same question that day. Nothing personal about it. She was probably on the planning committee or whatever.

It’s not like I had a claim on Jane. I know that. She didn’t say, “Let’s start a romance together at the Christmas party,” or anything like that.

But something was off about the guy she was with. I didn’t like him. I mean, I thought he seemed too nice, like to everyone. Like he was trying to win a popularity contest or something. I mean, as soon as I ran into Jane and him at the party, he was asking all kinds of questions about me like he cared who I was. I wish I would have had the balls to say, “Look, you got Jane. I don’t have anyone. You’ve won. So will you please just shut the fuck up and let me have some peace?”

Saying something like that didn’t even occur to me until about two hours later, though. In real life, I just said I needed to go find some ibuprofen. Which was true, by the way. I am trying to be more honest.

Anyway, you can see why I am not thrilled at the idea of seeing Jane every workday for the rest of my life. Yes, she’s in IT, too. Project Manager. A really good one…it’s like she actually understands what I do for a living. You have no idea how rare that is.

Jane’s not the only reason I’m thinking of just quitting, though. Maybe she isn’t even the main reason. It’s the woman who kissed me at the party. I’ll car her Jezebel, because that sounds appropriately evil. Friday, I walked from floor to floor, through the cube mazes, looking for her. It didn’t take long, no more than ninety minutes.

I walked by her cubicle twice, seeing her on the phone. I acted like I was going somewhere each time. On the third pass, she was off the phone and said, loudly, “Were you waiting for me?”

Who wouldn’t be put on the defensive by that? So I said, “No, I’m waiting for the person in the next cubicle to come back. We have a meeting. He’s late.”

“She’s off for the rest of the holidays,” said Jezebel. Shit. Shitshitshit.

“Well, I wish she would have declined the meeting, then.” This wasn’t going right. I tried to change the subject. “I went to the Christmas party last night. Did you go?”

She looked at me with what I would call a vacuous, mean smile for about two seconds and said, “You’re here because I kissed you, aren’t you?”

“I felt it was only proper,” I said. When I had practiced saying that line while driving to work, it sounded chivalrous. Now it sounded like the most inane thing ever said.

“Proper? You’re so sweet. I don’t think anyone else has ever called me or sent flowers for a mistletoe kiss before!”

And she started laughing. So I laughed too. And then I said, “I know. I was just kidding. I’ll see you around.”

She started typing as soon as I started walking away. From the quick bursts of typing (one sentence of typing, a pause, another sentence) I could tell she was instant messaging someone. And I’m sure I know what it was about: the loser she gave a pity kiss to under the mistletoe who’s now following her around, all in love. That bitch.

I went to the mens’ room, shut myself in a stall, and waited for the shaking to stop.

I just don’t think I can go back and work there.

Isolation Score: 9.99999 (etc.)