The day I quit was the most liberating moment of my life. It was terrifying, realizing that, for the first time since I was 16 years old, I wouldn’t have a paycheck or insurance. But once I made my decision, there was no going back.

You see, when I showed up at the office for the final time after 28 years of pouring my heart and soul into this company, I realized that I didn’t know any of my coworkers. I mean, I knew the names and the faces, but I didn’t really KNOW any of them. I thought I did, but there comes a moment of clarity when you realize that the people you thought you knew and you thought were your friends are really more like animatronics put there to fill cubicles.

Then there’s the boss. The supervisor. The head honcho. Mr. Fancy pants whose head is shoved so far up his, well, you get the point. When I walked into his office and told him to stick this job right up there alongside his head, I’ve never been more proud of myself.

But as I walked through the front doors for the last time, escorted by security of course, I saw it. The big, bright, burning flash of light that signaled the end of humanity as we know it.

When you see a mushroom cloud for the first time, it’s hard to believe what you’re seeing. Your mind can’t comprehend that this could actually be real, that you could actually be witnessing the beginning of a nuclear war. But, unlike most of the horrific things we witness in our lifetimes, mushroom clouds linger. They don’t go away in an instant. And while your mind tries to convince you that it’s nothing more than a bad dream, you never wake up from it.

Of course, mushroom clouds rarely come alone…