So, I left my job.
Form an orderly line if you plan on reading me the Riot Act as to why this is a bad idea. I know. I’m aware of all the reasons, and I completely agree that it’s not necessarily the most prudent move for a person in my age bracket.
But, why did I do it? And why, more importantly, do I feel alright about it? These are questions. And, fortunately, I have answers.
I fucking hated my job.
That’s where I’ll start. I want to be very specific on this point and make sure that you know that it was the job, or MOS in military speak, and not the company that I hated. The company is a fine, privately-held corporation that is in pole position in its industry. I hated my role, though. It was time to leave, ergo, I did.
The hours were long. The money was non-existent. It simply, honestly, wasn’t happening. Yet, I looked for any and every reason to stay because I have a big heart and possess no business savvy.
So where am I now? Well, I’m interviewing. I’m talking to two Fortune-500 companies for pretty awesome jobs in the recruiting space. I’m also scared shitless because my ex-Army roommate is going to shoot my ass when I can’t pay rent a few weeks from now. Honestly, I can’t blame him. Oh, and he has multiple assault rifles. Big ones.
The thing is, I did what I needed to do to find a bit of solace and not endure the worst Sunday Scaries known to man, anymore.
I’m confident. I’m employable. I have a vocation. I will have a job (probably tomorrow #fingerscrossed), but it still sucks and I know I’m not the only dude out in the free part of the world that’s gone through this.
So, here I am. I’m tap-spinning inside a vicious vortex that I threw myself inside of. I don’t claim to be the bannerman for a generation of lost, afflicted souls. I’m not that brazen. I do, however, think I understand a thing or two about the slings and arrows of navigating the minefield that is Corporate America.
I will be be fine. You will be fine. We will all be fine. The sun shall rise tomorrow and unicorns will fart rainbows. It’s science. I do, however, hope that all of you stay on a steady path that affords you comfort and allows you to vacation each year to the beach of your choosing (I’m an OBX guy).
The moral of all this: It’s an inexact science. It’s not linear. It takes failure and missteps to really get things figured out. Have faith in yourself. Have faith in the tens, nay, hundreds of thousands of dollars that your awesome parents invested in your education. We all, at some point, will be in a place where we can afford the white picket fence, loaded Jeep Cherokee and yellow lab named “Hank.”
Carry on, my wayward friends. Grab onto your will and wind. Don’t let the man get you down and, in the meantime, shoot any of your spare change to firstname.lastname@example.org because I’ll need it.