I Quit

I worked at Platt for four years. I went month to month at the apartments. At some point, one of the students at Platt needed a place to live and I offered to see if I could move into a two bedroom so that he could room with me and share expenses. I was able to do that by signing a new lease, and I got a roommate. I think his name was Travis. 

Travis and I got along fine but we were never really friends. We shared nothing in common. I was the biggest kind of nerd, and Travis was "normal. " Sadly, normal means something bad to me. Normal were the people who attacked me all of my life. Maybe that was a problem. I don't know. 

One day I came home for lunch and Travis and several other students were hanging out in the apartment, chatting, smoking pot, and drinking beer. I was appalled. I had become such a "goody two-shoes" so different from the person that I was. 

When I returned to school, I reported Travis and the other students to their teacher. Like it was any of my business. This wasn't high-school. These kids were adults, and they were paying for their education. How they wished to benefit or not from their investment was up to them. But, yeah. I tattled. Travis didn't like that. 

He began to give me the silent treatment. I sort of understood, and I tolerated it for a few weeks. After a month, I asked him how long this treatment was going to continue. "Hey, you chose this." was his response. 

In his mind, this was now our relationship. He was going to treat me as a potential threat, giving me the cold shoulder and the silent treatment forever. After a few more weeks, I went into "survival" mode around him. I'd avoid being home if I knew that he might be there, and generally the thought of going home created burning knots of tension in my stomach. 

The situation wasn't tenable. I told Travis that he had to move out. He didn't argue. He just said, "Okay." A few days later, he was gone. During this time, my focus at work suffered, and I began having more problems staying focused and motivated in my job. I began over hearing "things" in the faculty lounge. Things that made me think that my job might be in jeopardy. 

Then I got a letter from a friend who had worked at Platt College several months before, but had moved on to other opportunities. The letter was addressed to me, but to the school's address. It had been opened. I remember being really angry that my mail had been opened. I confronted the person responsible and was told that anything delivered to the school's address is property of the school. 

I quit. It was impulsive. It was probably more about my insecurity in my position and the stress at home then it was about anything that the school had done wrong, but I quit.