I tried and failed a few times to write a comprehensive conclusion to the series of events that I labeled here with the tag ‘THE JOB THAT SHALL NOT BE NAMED’. I never could manage to do it. I found a handful of metaphor that I though might help, but none of them felt right. I thought about just being forthcoming about things, figuring that I had given enough clues for an attentive reader to figure out what I was doing anyway, and where I was doing it. That didn’t feel right either. I also thought about just bitching and moaning till it was over.

And thankfully decided against it.

I don’t really know how to wrap my head around bad experiences. After a while, it all begins to feel like that good looking person you didn’t ask out in high school – there is a limit to how long you can sit there and justifiably ruminate over it. After a time, you just need to move on.

I need to move on. I had a bad working experience. The past 8 months or so of my life may in fact have been the worst working experience of my life. But that’s not really the issue. The issue is that two months or so down the line, I am still rather salty about it.

That in and of itself is a very good reason not to write about the experience. If it helps me move on, I will ignore the urge to write about it. And considering how difficult writing about it has been for me, it would seem like a good idea.

Sort of. Writing for me has always been cathartic. And I can’t help but wonder why this time it wasn’t.

The truth is that I can always change my mind a little later down the road. But for right now, I have to recognize that this job I finished took a lot out of me. And I need to get away from it. It would be best if I did so as quickly as possible.

So hear I go.