On Thursday the other week, one of my team members handed her notice in. On the Monday, I went down to London to congratulate her on her new position and use the occasion as a good excuse to see the city, have a few drinks and show my appreciation for her work up until that point.
I had a good night, which ended prematurely due to my lack of foresight with my travel arrangements – which roughly translates as ‘I booked a train that left too early for a celebratory night out, ended up rushing across London in order to make said train, and then spent the next hour and a half drifting in and out of consciousness on my way back to Leicester.’
A lot of the conversation that night (aside from the bits that lead to the crushing realisation that I do not register as a sexual being on 100% of those girls’ radars) was around work. It was about the reasons for leaving; the daily frustrations with the role and with other people; and with the small glimpses of happiness that occur when you have a supportive group of people around you.
I knew I wasn’t happy, but until then I hadn’t quite realised just how unhappy I was.
And then on Tuesday morning, I resigned.
I’ve talked about expanding your comfort zone (by doing ridiculous things like freefalling to your inevitable death on a zipwire) but I can tell you now, the best way to get rapid and expansive growth in your comfort zone is to quit your job.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt more motivated to get up and do something, knowing that in 4 weeks’ time I could be out of work completely, struggling to pay my mortgage, and on the cusp of becoming the next top salesman for The Big Issue. I could end up homeless, or worse, back at my parents.
But a funny thing happened. Well, two funny things really. And not even funny, just amazing.
The first was that the act of handing in my notice immediately freed me of any burden I felt about work. All the shit from management; the same questions day in, day out; the constant undermining, underappreciation and unfulfillment immediately disappeared.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt so liberated before. Admittedly I’ve never tried skinny-dipping, so my comparisons are limited, but the closest sensation I could describe would be the one you get when you’ve finished your final exam at school.
I am a minimalist and I understand the relief you get from unburdening yourself with possessions, so perhaps this is a better comparison, but even the amount of clothes, DVDS, magazines and keyring collections; unused crockery and random gadgets that I used once; and assorted items that I’ve been presented with on ‘significant occasions’ that I’ve got rid of have not even scratched the surface with the relief you get with going ‘fuck this, I am done’, flipping your desk, and strutting out of the office to epic music and explosions.
I mean none of that last bit happened; I got a nasty email that I responded to in kind along with a footnote that said I’d be leaving, but it was fucking good.
The second amazing thing that happened was that almost immediately, people came out in support of my decision and gave me options for what to do next.
This is the thing about expanding your comfort zone. You take risks in order to expand it; to feel like you’ve conquered something that was previously unknown or impossible to you; but in order to take risks, you need to be comfortable knowing that there is a safety net somewhere on the way down. It’s a symbiotic relationship, a positive feedback loop – the more risks you take, the more comfortable you are to take further risks.
What I found out is that my safety net is a lot bigger than I ever imagined and it’s overwhelming, really. I’m so grateful for all of the people that I have around me that have passed on job descriptions; that have extended offers of places to stay; that have even just acknowledged that they are there for me – I cannot thank you enough.
If I’d have known, I would have taken this risk a long time ago and I’m really struggling to work out why I didn’t do this sooner.
I have always realised just how fortunate I am to be in the position I’m in, and I’m by no means going to patronise anybody by going ‘Hey, go quit your job, it’ll be fine honest!’ when I know that it isn’t that easy for a lot of people. I don’t have children to think about, or a significant other, or a dependent relative where the repercussions of me making a selfish decision could deeply impact on their wellbeing. I don’t have that, so I know this isn’t for everyone. If none of that describes you though, and you hate your job – quit. Now. I will even write that email for you, but it’ll simply say ‘nah, not for me boss’ and have that meme attached of the minion dropping the mic and walking away.
People have said to me that it takes guts to do what I’ve done, which might feel like it’s true in this age where to risk the things you own might seem the same as risking your life itself, but it’s really not. I want people to realise that whatever you think the worst case scenario is (‘If I don’t have a job, how will I pay for this 52” TV that I don’t need? How will I succumb to marketing that makes me think I need a 54” TV? What if I don’t own it, nobody will ever truly love me, and I’ll die alone, in standard definition, with just a gramophone scratching at a record in the background, is that what you want for me?) it definitely won’t be as bad as that in reality.
You can have these words tattooed on me in 4 weeks time, when I’m wandering round just wearing a sandwich board that says ‘My comfort zone has expanded…’ on the front; and ‘… in to the porch at McDonalds’ on the back.
The only question I’ve really had this week has been ‘So what now?’ and this is a fantastic question, one I don’t currently know the answer to, but that feels like the answer could be absolutely anything.
