I quit my job. I did not give 2 weeks notice. I have never done that before. I am responsible. I am considerate. I do the right thing. Well...mostly. I absolutely unequivocally HATED my job. It was none of the things I'd been led to believe throughout the interviewing process. My first thought upon waking was 'how can I get out of going to work today?' If I could only have a car accident and maybe break an arm! On my way to work I began to unravel; dizzy, unable to breathe and my heart would pound in my throat. Just getting through the work day was an exercise in doggedness. By the time I was out of there I was exhausted. Bone weary and mentally wasted. It wasn't that the work was so demanding - it wasn't. It was that I HATED it and the energy expenditure of that was greater than my reserves. The work was boring and pedantic, involving little creativity, interaction or even thought. Did I mention I hated it?
I resigned on a Tuesday. My eye stopped twitching! I feel great! I'm broke and I don't care! I think I'll go to school and learn Web Design. Maybe. I might decide to twirl signs on the street corner. ? I don't know what I'll do but it for damn sure is going to be something I enjoy. Life's too short.
