“Oh, that Post-It note? I actually forgot about that. It was from, maybe last December? Maybe. Oh, yeah, I remember getting back from dinner with Alex and Chris. A pretty fancy one, actually — the one on 43rd & 9th. I remember that we talked about our New Year plans and that I was just plain annoyed by all the bragging from both of them. They’re always sort of pretentious, but that day, man, they put extra effort into it. ‘Oh we’re going to Madrid! You know, Jules—’. When I hear those words coming from them: ‘You know, Jules,’ I’ve learned to tune them off for a little while. For my own sanity.

“Anyways, Alex was like ‘You know, Jules, I made a promise to myself to travel more. Humans aren’t made to stay in the same place for too long, right? Otherwise you’d end up old and full of regrets and I don’t want that.’ Really. Travel more? What kind of resolution is that? Oh, I made a promise to myself to eat more chocolate! I promise I’d buy more clothes! Give me a break.

“But at least that huge eyeroll of a dinner motivated me to pick up a stack of Post-Its and write down some New Year’s resolutions. Plural! Like that one over there, ‘Sign up for yoga’ — and guess who’s got appointments with Greg every Tuesday and Thursday? And that note over there, the one that says ‘quit’ in huge letters? Yeah, I sort of wanna quit my job and start my own agency. I know it’s a long shot, but it’s good to have long term plans written somewhere, you know? Challenge myself a bit and not turn this board into some to-do list that I can finish by February or something like that.

“Alright, I know it’s cliche. Breaking news, a millennial is sick of working for a ‘corporation’, stuggle to understand the concept of job security, blah blah. And I’m gonna reply with another cliche like how I have to follow my dreams and take risks and other stuff written on posters with an image of a dude standing on top of a mountain and spreading his arms. But I can’t help it, ever since the idea of quitting popped into my head, everything at work became unbearable. The flickering light above my desk that nobody cares enough to report. That creepy gaze from the dude at the donut stand. How slow Kelly is at delivering drafts. These things didn’t really bother me before, I swear.

“Sounds like I have a terrible job, right? No, not in the least. I genuinely love it. Here, I even wrote on one of the Post-Its to get distracted less during work. I don’t know, I just can’t concentrate on one thing at a time anymore. Like, I’d be working on a comp and I’d feel an irresistible urge to switch to a client presentation for an entirely different project. It’s an attention span problem, I feel. Maybe it’s the flickering light. Maybe it’s that idiot Greg distracting me from beyond the relationship grave. What a giant baby, you know he’s so non-confrontational that the tiniest of arguments send him running to the other side of the god damn globe. I swear I — what? Oh, no, not the yoga instructor, a different guy. WAY different. Sorry for the confusion.

“What was I talking about? Oh, right, like I think I need to spend some time drowning myself in work, you know? Maybe by the time I realize how unhealthy that is, everything else will have gotten a little more bearable. Oh, look, here’s a Post-It note that says ‘be optimistic, it won’t hurt.’ “