When I first sat down to write, I had every intention of covering the end of the year and all the beautiful and tragic things that have happened in the world. If you haven’t seen the year in pictures that’s been making the rounds on Facebook, I would recommend taking a peek. I still remember some of the images from 2010 and the effect they had on me when I first saw them.
Instead, I’m distracted as hell because I’m preparing to quit my job in the next few hours. There are lots of reasons why this is not the most rational decision, but at the end of the day, I’m not certain that reason is the most important factor at the moment. Why on earth would I quit my job now? Here’s why: 1) I want to work in the world in a way that helps fewer tragic photos, like some that were featured above, be taken; 2) Life is too short to waste the good years; 3) I’m moving back to Boston to finally go home.
At the moment I have an attention span of roughly 45 seconds and my stomach feels like I swallowed a paper-weight. Most of this is self-inflicted because I’m terrified of letting people down, which is why I haven’t already quit. See, I direct a program for a nonprofit and I’m the only one who knows what my job is, meaning that while I have a lot of security in my position, I am also under a lot of pressure. My boss is always asking me not to get hit by the proverbial bus because he won’t know what to do. Yikes. I’m pretty clumsy and have always had questionable luck with busses.
Whether the bus takes me out or I simply quit, the issue is that I’m stuck under the weight of my fear to actually just leave. Well actually, I was stuck, but now I’m not. Because I’m quitting in two hours and 43 minutes (Holy Shit). While I’m excited to leave a job where my contribution doesn’t really matter and our efforts as an organization aren’t terribly effective, I have to say that I am so very grateful to have been employed. I’ve learned so much in the last three years that will undoubtedly help me transition to an organization where I can work more closely with a cause that I believe in. I’ve always wanted to fight for the disenfranchised and to wear myself out by helping people, not by beating my head against a desk.
So, dear readers, I would love to hear the story of your most memorable escape from a job that you didn’t like. How did you decide to leave and how did it turn out?