I quit my job last week. My emotions were getting to me, overwhelming my reason and sense. I was arguing with my supervisor almost all the time, and railing against the organization of the office and the indignity of being a permanent temporary worker. Everything that didn't go my way made me angry, and almost brought tears. I couldn't bear the sight of my two new co-workers cheerfully making DVDs, figuring out how to solve problems I'd encountered many times before, chatting with each other and laughing at their own mistakes, and listening respectfully to our supervisor. I knew the supervisor, Laura, much better than they did. I'd been on the project before Laura, who was transferred to it back in October when she herself was a temp. She got hired because there was an opening in another project, transferring grant applications to an electronic format and then putting them on CD; but before she went to the new position, she was placed on this DVD recording project until it ended. I naturally felt jealous, as she had gotten hired as a permanent worker (and in a management role) while I remained a temp indefinitely. Moreover, my job was horridly boring. I had to show up every day and repeat the simple actions I'd been doing since I first got the job in September. I spent a whole school year recording tapes for people who didn't even know me. This frustration had a vicious effect on my happiness in other ways, as well: whereas at first I was able to read novels and philosophy at work, toward the end I was finding it difficult even to get through the newspaper. When I got home, I might occasionally look at job sites and every so often apply to one, but I wouldn't say that I had dreams.

On Wednesday of last week, I spoke to Eric in Berlin. I told him about my frustration, and found myself using stodgy language ("the job market is dangerously tilted toward employers"; "it shouldn't be so difficult for me to advance my position"), and he told me looking for traditional work isn't something he or any of his friends have ever done so he didn't know what to say. He suggested that I visit Berlin. Since he's moved there, he's often told me about how it's a great place to live right now because it's cheap and has a hopping culture, and Americans can easily make enough money to live on by teaching English. I asked him if he has a lot of free time. He laughed and said, "I have a ridiculous amount of free time. Oh yeah."

I went in to work the next day, Thursday, and almost immediately got into a bitter spat with Laura about whether or not I had to record both copies of a particular assessment which we had on two different tapes, for whatever reason. I showed her that the two tapes had the same material, and she kept telling me slow down, not to talk so much, and to show her how I knew they were the same. It felt like she was babying me, demanding that I prove my point because my judgment alone was insufficient. Finally, she said that I could go ahead and record only one of the two tapes. On my first break, I called my temporary agency and told them that I wanted to quit. They said that Friday would be my last day.

After I told Laura that I had quit, we talked a bit more openly and she told me that she hadn't mistrusted my judgment, but had been occupied with writing an email and couldn't at first understand what I was saying, and then could tell that I was getting mad but didn't know what else to do. Then, very shortly, we again got into an emotional debate about the ethics of capitalism and specifically of our company, which is a small, family-helmed government contractor. She kept trying to divert the conversation toward my own character, and my tendency to be too sure of what I say, to not listen to other people, and to make too much of small injustices. It was rather maddening at the time, although even then I came to see that she had a point. Nevertheless, I still feel the same way about the company, and about capitalism. I'm very nearly a Marxist.

That night, Anne and I discussed saving up some money and then moving to Berlin to be writers. On Friday, I had one more day of work, and more arguing with Laura, and more bad feelings. I didn't even get past page five of the newspaper, but then I left the office for the last time. Berlin very quickly began to seem like a wonderful idea, better than any other option. Anne and I can both get jobs of any sort just in order to save a few thousand more dollars, get certified to teach English, and leave this country at least for three months, depending on visa renewal. This is our plan. Now we just need jobs.