By Whatever Means Necessary

I feel relieved. I think. I got what I wanted, but took the coward’s route. My need was simple: Get my vacation request approved. Instead of getting up the nerve to bring my slips to my boss, I left them in her mailbox. My excuse, albeit pathetic, was true: I forgot that the slips were on my desk (I didn't mention it was intentional). Regardless the result's the same; I’m going on vacation!

I love going on trips, but I hate this panicked feeling. Part of it is because I can’t plan for everything. I also hate to spend money. The bigger part is now I have no vacation time left. I don’t have a buffer of extra time. Which brings me to another point, why do I feel guilty for going on vacation? I earned it. Leaving on vacation feels like a death sentence. I’ve seen it happen before. You train someone to do your job (feels like giving away trade secrets) and next thing you know they have your job.

Maybe I shouldn’t worry. As I find out every time I come back, no body else wants my job.

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