8/28/2023 0 Comments Quit my job today![]() ![]() Even after nearly two years of reflection, I still can’t decide if that euphoria is bad for me and incompatible with a healthy life, or if labor is, in fact, sacred. I’ve never felt more alive than when doing intense work in an intimate environment. But it was not the panacea I’d anticipated.Īs a culture, we’ve come a long way in identifying the bad parts of all-consuming jobs, but saying goodbye still often comes with an enormous sense of grief. Quitting seemed like the path to taking control of my mental and physical well-being. Like many workers who were part of the so-called Great Resignation, I walked away because of burnout worsened by the pandemic, along with a heightened sense that life is short. Even though I’m glad I left Google, after which I worked at Facebook briefly before exiting tech in mid-2021, moving on was complicated. Reunited with my colleagues, I throw myself back into debugging, ecstatic that my life has a clear purpose again. I clip my holographic badge back on to my belt loop I clutch my corporate MacBook to my chest. Even though it’s been three years since I quit- frustrated by sexual harassment, an excruciating HR investigation, and being discouraged from applying for a promotion, which led to a reduction in pay-I always accept their offer, flooded with joy and relief. Human resources tells me that they have the perfect software-engineering role and that I alone can do it. It's just going to take a few moments to get my bearings, to right myself.In my dreams, Google begs me to come back. I feel like I felt when I stepped off a plane at ten thousand feet some years back, tumbling head over heels, plummeting toward the earth. I don't intend to be flippant, ungrateful. I recognize it's not a choice everyone has. To charge headlong into indulgence, rough but ultimately temporary. The privilege to walk away from a well-paying life of comfort. There's magic out there, in this great big beautiful world, and I've long since scooped up the last of the scraps to be found in my cubicle. ![]() Too many thunderstorms went unwatched, too many gentle breezes unnoticed. I've missed too many sunsets while my back was turned. I've grown tired of spending the best hours of my day in front of a glowing rectangle, of coloring the best years of my life in swaths of grey and beige. I've grown tired of meetings, of teleconferences, of timesheets and password changes and Monday morning elevator commiseration. The days have blended into weeks, the weeks into months, the months into years. I've learned a lot from these seven years, and I enjoyed plenty, but with each passing year I feel I learned a little less. I'm grateful for the opportunity, and I'm anxious to turn my back on what was really a good thing. I had some patient bosses who put up with me taking three-month-long sabbaticals every year, who let me bend the rules just to their breaking point. I got health insurance and paid time off and a whole lot of autonomy. The people were wonderful, the work was service-oriented, the hours were flexible, the salary was good. Those seven years have been pretty lovely, and I feel so fortunate to have had what was really a pretty great job. I've spent almost seven years- seven years-going to the same place at the same time on the same days of the week. And I suppose my last day of employment won't really arrive until some weeks into our trip, when my surplus leave runs out.īut today feels like a really big day. I have a farewell gathering put on by kind colleagues to attend at the end of the month. ![]() I have a few days of working from home between now and July. But today was the final day, the Day of the Cardboard Box, the day in which I walked out of the office and am not scheduled to ever walk back in.Īctually, today's not even the final day. ![]() I actually quit my job about six months ago when I announced I was leaving. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |