Since posting my last blog, I’ve reached various stages of completion on 7 more blog posts. Which basically means I dive down gold mines of the internet trying to ensure that what I am saying is factually correct. When the answer isn’t clear, I get frustrated and begin a new blog post on feminism and why women are more scared of being wrong than men, but this already seems to have been covered by more eloquent writers or in an academic journal and I decide there’s a blog post on everything already so there’s no point me writing a blog post on it, causing an implosion in whichever part of my brain is responsible for my internal blogosphere. Then I regret starting a blog and the world ends without my phenomenal contribution to society.
Alas, I realise that what should be addressed is the fact I recently quit my job. Dwelling on the why, seems redundant, but reflecting on what I have learnt seems like a valuable use of my time, or rather, something I can try and articulate in a cliche induced suffering.
- It’s a privilege.
Quitting my job was an entirely selfish act. At 25, I am fortunate that I have absolutely no responsibilities and I have no dependents (RIP Bubbles the Goldfish). I made this decision solely because I wanted to. My only direct debit is my phone bill and with my rent finishing in August, I had the opportunity to do something a little bit different. I’m trying to make the most of it before I become laden with other “adult stuff” that the world will inevitable present me with like a life size game of Buckeroo, but I’ll save that retaliation for my midlife crisis. - I know me better than you know me.
Making a decision to quit your well paid, stereotypically “successful” job aged 25, especially when there’s a pandemic that will inevitably induce a global economic crash will inevitably receive comment from absolutely everyone. I have been told I am an idiot, that this is too risky, I am throwing my career away, I am not resilient enough, I need to take responsibility for my actions, that I am disrespecting people that have lost their jobs, I’m being a typical snowflake…
As someone that is reasonably well educated, I was, in fact, aware of the impact of my choice. Maybe it is because I am a woman that people assumed I had handed in my notice on a whim of hysteria? Surely, the fact I was still considering leaving my job despite the poor macroeconomic forecast is further evidence that I needed to make a change?
Despite not having any “dependents”, I do have the best friends in the world that have been with me, quite literally, every step of the way- it was a big point of conversation for all 84 miles of Hadrian’s Wall that I walked this summer. They have provided very patient and generous sounding boards as I have navigated various options from professional dry stone waller (I like being outside and playing tetris) to becoming a therapist (my usual condolences are “chin up, pal”). The thing is, despite all the possible outcomes, it still felt like the right decision to me and as much as you want your ideas to be justified by other people, there are times when you have to put on your big girl pants and make a decision by yourself. So, I handed in my notice.
Then I marched out of Daniel Cleaver’s office to an Aretha Franklin anthem, everyone cheered and the city is still mourning its greatest loss…. - “Keep moving forward”
The cliche kills me, but I love this quote. I saw this quote first at the end of “Meet the Robinsons” which is a great film for various reasons, primarily because its about my distant cousins and its one of the only DVDs I ever had.
When I eventually become the inspirational woman I aspire to be, this will roughly translate to “Wow, she’s so courageous and constantly strives to better” the reality right now is a bit more “quitting my job is really scary and I’m still finding it scary”. Sometimes I lie in bed at night telling myself I’m an idiot, I get a knot in my stomach when asked “so, what are you doing at the moment?” and I constantly feel the need to justify my existence on this earth. Then I get angry with myself for thinking that a particular, societally deemed “suitable” job justifies my existence and I remember the Sunday blues and the Monday blues and the Tuesday blues… - The best things you own, cannot be taken from you
The thing is, despite having quit my job, this doesn’t undermine everything I have already achieved. We are all an accumulation of our experiences and no matter what happens next, I will still have my degree and I will still have 2 years of experience of Change Management. The city can wait. - Be the change you want to see
Living within your means is something you should have mastered by 25. But for the last couple of years, I’ve spent about a third of my monthly salary on rent and saved about a quarter. Leaving me with the remaining 40% to fund my lifestyle. Yes, I am a very extra “basic bitch”, please see point 1.
Even by my self indulgent standards, 40% of my salary is a fair bit of cash to just “fund a lifestyle”. Yes, going out for meals, spending time with my friends and a healthy stock of Lidl’s finest Cotes du Thongue (£3.49 on offer) makes me happy, especially after months of lockdown. However various political campaigns have forced me to consider how I spend my money and the businesses I support. Being lucky enough to earn a salary above the UK average, I feel I have the responsibility to live something other than my current, almost purely hedonistic, lifestyle.
How does this relate to quitting my job? It doesn’t, I just think dollar voting is something we all need to consider in our consumer driven capitalist society.
Short of being accused of expressing moral superiority, or being a champagne socialist, I would like to caveat that despite my current “break”, I will probably return to a “city job”. But for the meantime, I will dodge zoom calls and quizzes, stand ups and stand downs and hold out for some sort of orgastic future.
