Writing exercise: How I quit a bad job

(This was inspired by my brief employment history with Bill the accountant in Gainesville. He's a true son of a bitch and is probably in some minimum security federal prison for fraud or tax evasion by now.)

The sick feeling started each evening at around eight. The euphoria I felt upon pulling into the driveway each evening was short-lived. By the time I start pulling my clothes together for the next day, my stomach began churning with dread.
On that day my boss's words were impossible to forget. I had stood across from him at his desk and took the barrage. He ended with a patronizing: "We'll just agree to part ways" and asked me to stay on for two reasons: In the early days of computer literacy, I was the only staff member who could operate the office computer. I was in the middle  of putting together a detailed financial statement for an important new client. It was crucial that I stay on until the project was finished. And, because no one else in the office could use the computer, I was asked to stay on until a replacement could be trained.
Sitting at a busy intersection the next morning, I could see the top of the four-story office building where I worked. I gripped the wheel and tried to quell my stomach with some deep breaths. I tried to look on the bright side: My commitment couldn't be longer than two weeks at the most, and  I'd been promised time to look for another job.
I missed the green light by about ten cars. The office building loomed ahead of me, looking more like my prison for the day than a place of business.
I thought about the deal I struck with my boss: the balding, paunchy baby-faced boomer with carefully gelled hair.I thought about other promises he had made and abandoned during my tenure at the office. I thought about the abuse flung at the staff, even in front of clients.When confronted, he would laugh nervously and accuse us of not having a sense of humor, as anyone could have seen that the insults were just innocent teasing.
My grip tightened on the steering wheel when the light turned green again. I thought about the commitment I had made and the urgency of having the pending financial report completed.
I pulled into the turn lane for the office parking lot, but what caught my eye was the road sign ahead that read :"Gulf Beaches Next Right". I was immediately tempted to bail, and break my promise. Leave in the lurch my co-workers and risk a poor reference.
Smiling smugly, I shrugged and thought, "Oh, well......"
I drove right past the office building waving gaily at the unseen minions cloistered inside, and made the next right to the beach, The bastard wouldn't have given me a good reference anyway.