Quitter

That was what the man, my boss, whispered into my ear, his hot breath fluttering the hair on my young neck. I was a “personal assistant” for a D.C. bigwig. I had lasted six weeks before, in abject fear, I tendered my resignation. I was stung and humiliated. I was 20 years old. I had committed an almost unpatriotic act — I had quit. Never give up! Quitting is easy! It’s always too soon to quit! So go the Facebook posts, with pictures of cringing kitties or grinning senior citizens. It took me some time to overcome my Calvinist roots