Sentiments of an Overdue Job
I want to quit my job.
I’ve wanted to quit my job.
Through the crack of my window thousands of snowflakes hurl toward the ground. Books line the windowsill – Temptation at eye level, especially on sales calls. My phone, never more than a stretch away (even as I attempt to separate myself from it by placing it in another room) - finds itself next to me the jewel of my attention.
There is hope that one day they’ll fire me. I won’t have to pull the trigger. Without so much as a handwave, I’ll get a message from my boss in the middle of my workday, perhaps when I’m actually sending emails.
“Zach, we have some unfortunate news…”
Would I feel like a failure or a freeman? Both? Definitely a coward. The notion of being without a job is harrowing. It’s an idea filled with even more temptation than those books. I’m writing this because every day is seemingly the same. I wake up and turn my head to face the computer always with a cup of coffee. There’s a joke I tell people that I bang my head as I wake in-route to my computer. The more I say it, the less funny it gets.
The grind is no longer appealing to me. I’m actually not sure if it ever was. If you say, “I love the grind” enough times you can convince yourself, but it’s a veil. I’m sure of it. Life isn’t meant to do activities continuously without engaging the brain. For safety’s sake, I’ll throw in for me.
I’m making a plan to quit. I have around 45 days or so. (Upon finally getting around to editing this - 30.) A leaf off the tree languidly falls to the ground twirling about without concern for its final destination: the ground. A bowling ball does not twirl about it yet it meets the same fate much faster. There’s a quote in the business book, Good To Great, that has stuck in my mind, “The enemy of great is good.” I think the author missed the other enemy of great: a large paycheck without growth.
Around 1 or 2pm, as I type this it’s about 12:53pm I get a heavy pressure on my head. It may be the energy of the caffeine fully utilized or the constant staring of megapixels on a 24X12’’ screen. What occurs simultaneously is a sense of sadness. The feelings of not doing something intriguing - something that expands myself rather than constrains. Sometimes I worry that this is all just constant complaining. But it’s how I feel as I yell to the world.
You should be grateful is a retort I get often if not by words than by facial expressions. Can I be grateful for the money and not the work though those are completely linked? Sometimes I get the feeling that I should be grateful for the work too because it’s producing this hotbed of energy ready to burst. I’ll fly to the moon with all my ideas and actions because I know the definition of satisfaction and tedium. The remembrance of a time like this is the never-ending fuel I need to pummel fear and soar to heights I could never have dreamed were possible.
But can I?
To waste anymore of my time on this job is an affront to my creator. It’s saying that the time I have isn’t precious. Why do something when you haven’t been happy for months? It’s a despicable way of living.
I had a conversation yesterday with a coworker who was promoted from my role. She gave me the feeling that I could be doing better. And it’s true, I can. So, maybe, I thought why don’t I just work my damndest to be the best salesperson I could be? The fact is that what I’m fighting is the system and my own authenticity. It feels good to be a part of the system and get the gold star at the end of the day. The feeling stops when you realize that where you’re at is nowhere - a place you never wanted to go. Thinking about the next revolution is hard when you’re busy sending email upon email.
I want to work. Like the artists and entrepreneurs out there. There’s got to be a mission there. Something to keep internally focused at hand. Not only do I despise what I’m doing, but more importantly (and maybe because of it), I don’t like who I am becoming.
