I get the same general reaction when I tell someone for the first time that I quit my job. It's probably the same one that you are having right now. "You QUIT your job in THIS economy?" "What in the hell are you thinking?" "What are you going to do?"
The last question I find particularly humorous. At first I want to scream at them. I'm going to look for another job you moron. But honestly... I QUIT MY JOB... who's the moron?
The factors that lead to my ultimate joblessness are numerous. The underlying factor... I was miserable. I learned something very valuable about myself the past few years, and that is I can only make myself believe I am happy for so long, that and no matter what, Meghan is always right. She predicted my unhappiness long before I was willing to admit it. I have never met someone with the ability to be tuned in like she is. She also has the unsettling job as my best friend to tell me the things I don't want to hear.
Let me make this very clear… I SUCK at sales. I have all of the natural traits that would lend themselves to a good sales(wo)man. I am a people person, I have a bubbly personality, and I can talk for the sake of talking and make you feel like I am honestly interested in what it is you are saying. I can sell a candidate to the public and ask for you to vote for him without blinking an eye. But there is something about pressuring people for money that makes my stomach knot up. At my previous job everyone told me I would go far if only I could polish my closing skills. The problem: I didn’t want to.
And this is where my quarter-life crises first began. I am an ambitious person by nature. A trait that is growing the older I get. When I first graduated from college I was unsure of what I was going to do. I joined a temp agency that ultimately took me to a job in which I excelled. They were so impressed with my temping skills that they created a position for me and hired me on permanently. (toot toot) I was fully prepared to create a career out of perforated metal. I even envisioned a Halloween costume around my stumbled on profession. (Let your imagination run wild!) I was doing so well that my manager came to me after a year and told me they wanted to promote me to sales. I thought this was going to be a great opportunity for me to make a lot of money, be challenged, and progress through the company. Ah yes, I had great visions of running the company one day. I didn’t realize at the time my ego was being stroked that it would be the worst decision I have made in my life thus far. I did really well at first. Everyone told me what a good job I was doing. I was thrown into the position with no formal training. I was “the go to girl” that learned almost everything by bringing product videos home and watching them. I took my first sales call, albeit by accident, a week after I started. I jumped on the phone and used my people skills to make the customers feel at ease while I fumbled through the 1980’s DOS operating system. But then the new wore off. My manager started in on me about my closing skills. I wasn’t “forceful” enough at the end of the calls. I didn’t ask for the order the right way. I started dreading going to work and longing to do something I loved. Selling metal was not it. I wished for the days I felt like I was accomplishing something, standing up for what I believed in, being a part of something much bigger than myself. I missed politics. I missed policy. I missed the debate.
When the economy took its nose dive, things at work got worse. My boss’ bosses were on him and in turn, he took it out on us. My being new meant I had the worse sales, so I was an easy target. I was unhappy with what I was doing and now the environment in which I spent the majority of my days was morose. I really did try to make things work, to get over the fact that every day as I drove to work I felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest. The job was making me sick and depressed. I didn’t want to get out of bed. I started dreading hanging out with my friends. (one of my favorite things to do) I hated my life and where it was headed.
Then one day I was called into my manager’s office. The meeting went badly to say the least. I was furious and sad. I had a feeling that my days there were numbered. There had already been a round of layoffs, around 100 people, and more were rumored to be around the corner. Although I didn’t think I was going to have the same courtesy of a severance package. I was insulted and degraded during that meeting and I just couldn’t take it anymore.
I am a lucky girl. I realize that. I have the most amazing support system in the entire world. I have great friends who love me and parents I couldn’t have hand picked any better. Because of that, I was able to walk into that hell hole the very next day and give them my resignation. I told them exactly where they could stick their degrading comments and NEVER again were they going to make me feel like pond scum. The conversation went something like this.
Me: I have had time to think about what you said yesterday. I can’t continue to work for someone who treats their employees so poorly.
Boss: Ok, you can get your stuff and leave. We have your address; we will mail your final check.
Me: Thanks.
Boss: Good luck.
OK… so maybe I didn’t damn him to all eternity, but in my mind….
I felt so free, so alive. The sun was shinning and I drove all the way to Charlotte with the windows down and my radio blasting my “happy” playlist. I spent the entire weekend without feeling sick to my stomach for the first time in a year.
It wasn’t until the following Tuesday that the weight of what I had done hit me like a Mac truck full of cement. I quit my job. I kept repeating it over and over to myself as tears streamed down my face. What am I going to do?
Normally, quitting a job to move on to something you care about and that will make you happy is very admirable. People congratulate you on your passion and ambition. But, as is the case with so much of my life, the timing was bad. I quit my job with 8.1% unemployment, the worst unemployment rate in 20 years. This is the catalyst for the wide-eyed looks and insulting questions. Everyone knows the economy is bad, I know the economy is bad. (after looking for a job, I REALLY know the economy is bad) If I had a dollar for every time I have heard, “I’m just thankful to have a job,” I would be a rich woman. But at what point is enough, enough? For me it was when my job started making me physically ill. I want a job that I can be happy with, that utilizes my talents (as well as my degree), and one that I can make my career.
So…. I have quit my job and my quarter-life crisis is in full swing. Nothing like finding out who you are at 26. I guess better now that 56 with a family. Wish me luck!!!
No comments:
Post a Comment