======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ==== ======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ====
This all started when I was out at the bars a couple Thursdays ago for my birthday (we’ll leave my age out of it). This particular bar had free bottomless cup Thursday if your birthday was during that week. My birthday happened to fall on Thursday, and one of my best drinking buddies had a birthday the next day. Our other good drinking buddy came along and slipped the doorman a twenty to get a bottomless cup as well. It was on.
I had finished a couple whiskey and cokes before heading to the bars, and continued that trend upon arrival. After many whiskeys, I ran into a coworker whom I’d seen out before while blackout. He told me that he had just quit, and got a better job in the industry with another company. He went on to explain that his commission structure was much higher and the hours were better. I jokingly inquired if they were taking any more applications. He told me that they were still looking to fill one spot. We exchanged numbers and he told me he’d get me the info about applying the next day when he could read properly.
The next day at work, I was a wreck, which was my own fault for not taking off the day after my birthday, especially since it was a Friday. I texted the guy from the bar, but didn’t hear back all day. I figured he’d get back to me over the weekend, but that came and went. Finally, I got a text from him on Monday. He told me where to send my resume. That night I exaggerated my resume and sent it in. Not even a day later, I got a call from the employer for a phone interview. I knocked that interview out of the park, and at the end, the lady invited me in for a real interview. Two days later, I went to my interview and had all the standard questions mapped out. I gave some personal sales examples and had stories ready for all the “situational” questions. At the end of the interview, they told me they were considering a few other applicants. No problem. A couple days later, I got a call for a casual “coffee” sit-down. I met the lady who interviewed me at Starbucks the next day, and we chatted for over an hour. At the end she offered me the job and gave me the pay scale. I accepted on the spot.
Later that day, I rolled into work, and after our regular team meeting I spoke to my supervisor and let him know I was leaving. Since I got hired I’d seen multiple people leave, and they were all escorted out immediately, but given pay for their last two weeks. I was thoroughly looking forward to packing up my stuff and hitting the golf course for the rest of they day. Then my boss hit me with the “I’ll have to get back to you if we’re going to need you to work out your notice” line. Okay, no biggie. He told me it’d take at least a day for my answer. Whatever.
I worked my shift and came in the next day really excited to cut out early and hit the links. I arrived a little early to pack up. I logged into my email to find the horrible news: they wanted me to work out my entire two week notice. FUCK! Why? Everyone else got to leave and get paid. My boss said the company had “recently changed their policy about two week notices.” Well I was about to change my policy about “doing anything resembling work.”
After receiving that email I immediately opened multiple browsers on my computer and started surfing Youtube, Facebook, PGP (of course), and other assorted sites I’d avoided before my notice. I sat in my chair with mixed emotions, happy to be leaving and pissed I had to stay for two weeks. I decided to focus on the positives like not returning voicemails or emails, and giving zero fucks about my sales numbers. Although I dialed my caring meter down to zero, there were still some elements about working my two weeks that were the absolute worst.
You Can’t Tell Anyone
This doesn’t seem that bad, but it sucks when people are asking you for advice on company policies, computer systems or just making small talk in general about changes in the office. It also sucks if you have friends at work that you talk to a lot, or even hang out with outside the office. I had one good friend who knew, but all my other casual friends had no idea until I sent out an email on my last day.
You Get Assigned Shit Tasks
Since your boss knows you’re leaving, he’s going to give you the most menial tasks so you can’t seriously fuck up the office sales numbers, or whatever is important in your particular situation. My boss definitely did that to me. He immediately took me off the sales aspect of my job, and instead stuck me with client care as my primary responsibility. My boss still wanted me to meet my monthly sales quota by using old sales leads I had already acquired, but all the work I did from that point on dealt with unhappy clients who were threatening to leave. That was horrible…for the company. Not a solid strategy on my boss’s part. I barely tried at all to keep existing clients. I basically rubber stamped their cancellation forms and told them to shop around. I also made no sales.
You Have to Maintain Your Regular Schedule
I’ve always hated meetings and strategy sessions. I hate them exponentially more when I know I’ve got two feet out the door. Attending a daily sales meeting was terrible. I’m sure my coworkers started to catch on because I failed to update my sales numbers (or lack thereof), and contributed nothing to the discussion.
Besides the reasons listed above, my very last day of work sucked the most, because it was a Monday. After a weekend of very raucous drinking, I had to drag my ass out of bed one more time, put on my dress clothes, and trudge into the office to listen to some clients bitch at me about pricing. I tried my hardest to not let an f-bomb slip on the phone. The icing on the cake was leaving work, because I had to turn in my parking pass censor that allowed you to leave the garage. I had to be escorted out by the fake cops (they wore shorts and rode bikes) that ran security for our parking structure. I peeled out of the garage, going zero-to-thirty before I made it through the intersection and promptly got pulled over by a real cop. Fuck working your two week notice.
Respond
I was smart (retarded) enough to quit and walk out the door of the bank I worked at on a Friday afternoon. I would have way rather spent my 2 weeks phoning it in and keeping a solid reference on speed dial. Rage and the promise of returning to my college town for cinco de mayo blinded any logical thinking. Genius.
This hits way too close to home for me, every single point made is what I feel now. I wish I only had to work two weeks and then be freed from misery. My company requires a month’s notice and it sucks.