I've always loved stories of people who re-invented themselves mid-career...the stockbroker-turned-llama-farmer, the lawyer-turned-winemaker...and, being a somewhat unlikely CPA, I have always wanted a story like that for myself. Enter the hot dog stand. I think the original idea came from an offhand comment in the book "48 Days to the Work You Love" by Dan Miller, one of my many sources of inspiration for quitting my job. The idea has definitely taken root. So much so that I might have created an Excel spreadsheet with net profit projections based on various inputs (i.e. price per dog, number of days worked per week, number of dogs sold per day, etc.) and researched the King County regulations and taxes that would apply. All in all, it seems like a surprisingly viable income-generating solution.
As silly as it sounds (and feels), having this simple business idea to fall back on gave me the final confidence push I needed to make the leap into unemployment.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Pulling off the band-aid
It's been a week since I quit my job. A week since I sat down with my boss, the partner who hired me, and said, "See ya, sucker."
Actually it was more like, "It's not you, it's me...I just don't feel good about work anymore...I've loved working here, though...thanks for all of the opportunities...I'll stay for six more weeks...blah blah blah."
After all, there's no need to burn any bridges, right? Right.
I reached this point after six long months of mostly self-induced misery. I was so very tired of thinking about everything I don't like about my job. I had been focusing on the negative, naming and labeling it, trying to rationalize staying or leaving. It's exhausting to be so entirely focused on oneself. I'm ready to look outward again and start dreaming of possibilities, about what could be, about the wide-open future.
It's so clear now that the risk of leaving a good job at a good company is a smart risk to take when that good job makes you want to hurl your chair out of the 16th floor window of your office on a regular basis. It's a smart risk when the last day of all vacations is tainted with the dread of returning to work the next day. It's a smart risk when the thought of a "last day" makes you giddy with anticipation.
I've read articles on job searching and interviewing that liken the search for the right job to the search for the right romantic partner. Thus the interviewing process is like the first date; do you like this company enough to go on a second date? Do they like you enough to ask you out again? As I was talking to a friend a few weeks ago about my then undecided "stay or go" status at work, she said, "It sounds like you're in a bad relationship! You know things used to be good, but you can't really remember...and you've invested so much time that you hate to leave." Bingo. I've been "dating" this job for five years. We're in a serious relationship. But I know that it's not for me in the long term. I'm not going to "marry" it. So I've got to let it go.
I've been slowly pulling off the band-aid for a while now, and as of last week I ripped the mother off.
Actually it was more like, "It's not you, it's me...I just don't feel good about work anymore...I've loved working here, though...thanks for all of the opportunities...I'll stay for six more weeks...blah blah blah."
After all, there's no need to burn any bridges, right? Right.
I reached this point after six long months of mostly self-induced misery. I was so very tired of thinking about everything I don't like about my job. I had been focusing on the negative, naming and labeling it, trying to rationalize staying or leaving. It's exhausting to be so entirely focused on oneself. I'm ready to look outward again and start dreaming of possibilities, about what could be, about the wide-open future.
It's so clear now that the risk of leaving a good job at a good company is a smart risk to take when that good job makes you want to hurl your chair out of the 16th floor window of your office on a regular basis. It's a smart risk when the last day of all vacations is tainted with the dread of returning to work the next day. It's a smart risk when the thought of a "last day" makes you giddy with anticipation.
I've read articles on job searching and interviewing that liken the search for the right job to the search for the right romantic partner. Thus the interviewing process is like the first date; do you like this company enough to go on a second date? Do they like you enough to ask you out again? As I was talking to a friend a few weeks ago about my then undecided "stay or go" status at work, she said, "It sounds like you're in a bad relationship! You know things used to be good, but you can't really remember...and you've invested so much time that you hate to leave." Bingo. I've been "dating" this job for five years. We're in a serious relationship. But I know that it's not for me in the long term. I'm not going to "marry" it. So I've got to let it go.
I've been slowly pulling off the band-aid for a while now, and as of last week I ripped the mother off.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)