Having Patti rub my penis for good luck has really paid off.

I've been offered a new job, so for those of you who gave my future employer a reference or lit a Virgen de Guadalupe candle and recited "Hail Mary," I owe you a dinner. And not some meatloaf-and-mashed-potatoes dinner. I mean a meatloaf-and-mashed-potatoes-with-salad dinner!

Once again, I'll be a business manager at a design firm, but unlike my five-year stint at Stink Job, USA, I'll get my own office, two assistants, thirty combined days of leave each year, full medical and dental paid by the employer, and a 21% increase in pay (that's a lot of increase).

It felt good to hand deliver my resignation, but there wasn't nearly enough sobbing and begging on my boss's part. In fact, everyone in my office congratulated me. It sort of sucked. I wanted people to be freaking out like, “Oh no, this just made my top three worst days of all time!” Instead, they smiled and asked polite questions. All I'm saying is a little screaming, running around, and pulling out of hair would have been nice.

I feel somewhat bad for leaving my current coworkers, like I was chosen to go to heaven and they had to go to... that office. But who knows? I may very well feel stuck with this new job, too. And if that's the case, I'll just get Patti to help me wish a whole lot more.