And it wasn't like work was particularly horrible. It was just the combination of the heavy work load (which I normally enjoy), my recent health woes and the increasing micro-management.
On Monday, after being out of work for a week, I took my lunch break. Now, you have to remember, I have been chastised for not taking lunch breaks. I have been told in no uncertain terms that I must punch out and leave my desk for a half hour in the middle of my shift. It's for my own good, you see.
Well, there I am in the lunch room, flipping through a magazine that deserved to be in a doctor's office when one of my co-workers approaches me. "I need to bother you on your break," she says.
If this had been last year and I was munching on a sandwich at my desk or something and someone needed a spot of help, I'd be the first one pitching in. But here I sit, not being paid because management believes that working straight through my shift isn't healthy for me. So I refuse. Minor drama ensues.
On top of that throw the "stay off the Internet" messages, the dress code messages and every other little bit of nagging for no particular reason. Also include a heavy dose of poor sleep.
As I sat in my car during my lunch break last night (effectively solving that bothering me while off the clock problem) I seriously thought of just driving home and going to bed. If I could make enough to pay the mortgage in some other fashion I would jump at the chance.
I guess this means I should do some polishing of the old resume and start seriously looking at the job listings. Part of me feels too old to be starting from scratch again.