I am my own personal disorganizer...

I have a new job!

It's an awesome position, and I am seriously excited.
However, I have a problem.
It's called...

My current job.

Giving two weeks' notice to a supervisor is an uncomfortable situation for anyone, but try pairing the standard discomfort of resigning from a position with my personal tendencies for awkwardness, clumsiness, and misspeaking.

For instance, when I first entered my boss's office to disclose to her that I would be resigning from my position, I had a clear and concise statement planned in my head. It would be both eloquently worded and delicately delivered, and I imagined that, in response to my locution and diplomacy, my boss would have nothing for me but understanding for my decision and a hearty congratulations.

Unfortunately, my nerves got the best of me. I ended up walking into her office at 5:04pm, plopping myself into a chair across from her desk, staring her square in the eye, and blurting out "I got a new job."

Okay, okay. Maybe it wasn't THAT crass. But it was not good.

Equally "not good" was today, when I had a meeting with said boss, again in her office, to discuss several business matters that need to be transitioned to my co-workers in my absence. I walked in and put my trusty personal organizer on her desk. Ironically, my personally organizer, which is a "Franklin Covey 365" in a very cute shade of periwinkle, is so overused that is bulky, scuffed, and bulging with loose pieces of paper; it looks rather... well... unorganized. Anyway, I put my trusty periwinkle Franklin Covey on her desk, and assumed my "I Mean Business" pose. I had a legal pad and a pen in one hand, and a cup of water in my other hand. Sitting in the chair across from her desk with impeccable posture, I suddenly got an itch on my left ankle. After placing the legal pad on my lap, I bent forward to scratch my itch...

And I proceeded to dump my entire tumbler-cup of water down my leg, onto the front of her mahogany desk, and all over her office carpet.

From her vantage point behind the mahogany desk, my boss could not see the water damage that I had just caused. However, the noise that occurs when one liter's worth of water pours out of a container, splashes onto the skin of a human leg and mahogany wood, before audibly hitting and seeping into a plush carpet was just clear enough to elicit from my boss a simple, but extremely well-put, "Daaaaamn."

She found two napkins in her desk drawer, handed them to me, and I soaked up as much of the flood as possible. We discussed all the items on our meeting agenda, and I exited her office as quickly as possible so that she might not catch sight of the pair of over-saturated napkins in my hand.

I returned to my office and breathed a sign of relief that the meeting and the awkwardness were over. Less than two minutes later, my boss came into my office and, very gingerly, placed my trusty periwinkle Franklin Covey on my desk. She turned and walked out.

I pushed my office chair back and laid my forehead down on my desk. "T - 6 business days. And counting," I reminded myself.

Although, who am I kidding?! We all know that I am always going to have my awkward tendencies. I'll be awkward in my next job, in my next apartment, in my next friendships... probably in my next life.

Sheesh.
It's a good thing my awkwardness is endearing.
It's a good thing my awkwardness is comical.
It's a good thing I've accepted my awkwardness!

Stay tuned, folks... At least we soon will have a new setting in the tales of Mary's Misadventures!