So I resigned from my job yesterday!
It has been on my mind for some time now but for some odd reason, I have just not had the courage to knock on my boss's door and tell him I'm leaving. Who knows how long this state of affairs would have lasted, but for an impromptu meeting with my directors yesterday. No doubt I would have left there some thirty years hence with a gold watch and a wasted life!!
It was so liberating saying the words, 'I'm handing in my resignation', which got me to thinking as to why it has been so difficult to leave a place that makes me miserable for eight hours every single day. I mean, it should be a no brainer, right? Coming here every day makes me nauseous, being here makes me unhappy and the best part of my day is when I leave this dungeon... Indeed, when you find yourself waking up disappointed because you are not feeling ill and hence have no legitimate excuse to stay home, it's time to leave...right?
Sadly, for the most part, the answer to that question, in this instance and for me, has been no. It is certainly not the first job I have hated and not the first job I have resigned from either. I have walked out of a number of jobs only to embark on projects of my own. So I certainly know that it isn't fear of the unknown that has kept me bound to this bleak island of despair for so long. I guess, this time things have been different because this was supposed to be THE JOB. The one I studied five years for, the one I did two years of slave labour (in the form of articles) for, it is the one I wrote four gruelling board exams for. Over and above this, I landed a place in a very respectable firm and was told by the directors that I have a future there, who knows, perhaps even a place amongst the top vultures in due course. Maybe therein lies the problem. For the past year or so, I have felt trapped and stupid at the same time. I mean, by all counts I'm on to a good thing, a steady pay cheque, a respectable job blah blah blah... The reasonable man would count his blessings and stick it out.
And yet... despite putting a brave face on it, in the quiet of night, whilst alone, I have known, just known in the depths of my being that I am not in the right place. What does one do when trapped, a closet career hater, scared to death of what society, your family and friends will say if you give it all up, come out and say, "I hate my job and I am going to leave"?
I tell you what you do my friend, you quit the freaking job, sell your bakkie (the doors of which cannot be locked), publish your little fantasy novel, do a bit of legal work on the side and then you go on a six month tour through Spain, Greece and Turkey... And that gentle reader is exactly what this irresponsible blogger intends on doing!!
It has been on my mind for some time now but for some odd reason, I have just not had the courage to knock on my boss's door and tell him I'm leaving. Who knows how long this state of affairs would have lasted, but for an impromptu meeting with my directors yesterday. No doubt I would have left there some thirty years hence with a gold watch and a wasted life!!
It was so liberating saying the words, 'I'm handing in my resignation', which got me to thinking as to why it has been so difficult to leave a place that makes me miserable for eight hours every single day. I mean, it should be a no brainer, right? Coming here every day makes me nauseous, being here makes me unhappy and the best part of my day is when I leave this dungeon... Indeed, when you find yourself waking up disappointed because you are not feeling ill and hence have no legitimate excuse to stay home, it's time to leave...right?
Sadly, for the most part, the answer to that question, in this instance and for me, has been no. It is certainly not the first job I have hated and not the first job I have resigned from either. I have walked out of a number of jobs only to embark on projects of my own. So I certainly know that it isn't fear of the unknown that has kept me bound to this bleak island of despair for so long. I guess, this time things have been different because this was supposed to be THE JOB. The one I studied five years for, the one I did two years of slave labour (in the form of articles) for, it is the one I wrote four gruelling board exams for. Over and above this, I landed a place in a very respectable firm and was told by the directors that I have a future there, who knows, perhaps even a place amongst the top vultures in due course. Maybe therein lies the problem. For the past year or so, I have felt trapped and stupid at the same time. I mean, by all counts I'm on to a good thing, a steady pay cheque, a respectable job blah blah blah... The reasonable man would count his blessings and stick it out.
And yet... despite putting a brave face on it, in the quiet of night, whilst alone, I have known, just known in the depths of my being that I am not in the right place. What does one do when trapped, a closet career hater, scared to death of what society, your family and friends will say if you give it all up, come out and say, "I hate my job and I am going to leave"?
I tell you what you do my friend, you quit the freaking job, sell your bakkie (the doors of which cannot be locked), publish your little fantasy novel, do a bit of legal work on the side and then you go on a six month tour through Spain, Greece and Turkey... And that gentle reader is exactly what this irresponsible blogger intends on doing!!
Good for you. Life's too short to live it by other peoples rules.
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