I Quit!

I've been a working stiff since the tender age of 14. A minimum wage kid that learned the value of hard work, through a litany of career opportunities. Over the course of my employment history, I have found myself in all sorts of work environments. On the road, a cubical crusader, in the great outdoors, working for myself and as a cog in the machine.
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My first job was being a pump jockey for a full service gas station and car wash. For those not familiar with what "Full Service" is, there was a day when you had the choice of having your gas pumped for you or doing it yourself. It was a great first job. I learned a lot about hard work and how to make a gourmet meal from the convenience store shelves. The smell of gasoline, grease and processed meats still brings back fond memories.

At 16, I got my driver's license and with that climbed to the next rung of the ladder as a Pizza Delivery Guy. Now that was a fun job! They paid for my gas and the wear and tear on my car. I got tips, and the occasional delivery to a lonely cougar with a fetish for letting her rope slip open while digging for change in her purse. The stories I amassed from that tour of duty, could fill a much more NC-17 type blog for sure. It was also the first time I let someone's power tripping make me lose my cool and give the one fingered salute as I walked out the door. No thought to consequence of my actions or the responsibilities I didn't have. I was a kid! What did I care?

At the age of 19 I was laid off from, what I thought, was a great job. I worked for a hospital, making above average pay for a 19 year old and I had benefits. It was, for all intents and purposes, my first real job. In my mind it was the end of the world. I had a one year old that required food, shelter and clothing. I needed that job! The funny thing is, losing it was the best thing that could have happened.

Thanks to my wife's uncle, I soon started working in the printing industry, which lead to my career as a graphic designer. I toiled endlessly to hone the craft and sacrificed a lot of blood, sweat and creative juice for my new found passion and the pursuit of happiness. Working in a creative capacity has it's perks and the stereotypes that come with being a creative person are right on. So it was the perfect choice for me. I didn't think I would ever get tired of it.

After nearly a decade of whoring myself out on the ad agency circuit, I decided to strike out on my own and open a creative shop. It was me, a buddy of mine and eventually my wife, in a dinky office, flying high on a wing, a prayer and spray glue fumes.

At first I loved it. The freedom of being your own boss, calling the shots...all that crap! What a glorious existence to live. Or so I thought. Three years in and the honeymoon was over. The recession, and my lack of business management skills, helped to slam that chapter in my book of life closed. I found myself tossed back into the corporate washing machine, working for one of my clients, getting the taste of freedom and all stains that come with it, washed clean from my resume.

Now, for those that work in the corporate world, you know that the work place is a complex ecosystem of personalities, office culture and odd smells coming from the break room. Only the strongest of weekend warriors can thrive in such a harsh environment. The struggle to evolve despite the powers that be can be daunting. Increasing profitability and making sure the proper cover is on your TPS reports can, and will, take it's toll. Even the paltry two day siesta your afforded, to recharge the 'ol gray matter, ain't enough to assuage the pressure from the other five days of rat racing.

So, It's a pretty safe bet that, whether your an Astronaut or Taste Tester for Ben and Jerry's, at some point in your career there will be days where limits are pushed and rash decisions made. In the blink of an eye, your stress induced tourettes, will have expressively colorful phrases flying from your mouth with every lash of the tongue. In an instant, you could find yourself on the business end of a pink slip and a bridge that has been severely burned.

Well, after nearly 6 months of being told what time to come in, and when to leave I got fed up with the arrangement and I turned on my handlers like caged animal. Everyday I shuffled into work with the stench of bad attitude following me like a lethal cloud of toxin. I did my job and did it well, but I was just down right unpleasant to be around. One day I had finally had it and made a serious error in judgment. I basically gave my notice and began to count down the days until the cage was opened and I would be set free on my quest for more creative prey.

In some cases this would be a liberating feeling. Unfortunately, in these harsh economic times, this was not the best laid plan for mice or men. My friends are struggling to make ends even come close to meeting after losing their jobs. I have one! What the hell was I doing?! No matter what kind of quitters remorse I had, the ball was in motion to find my replacement. At this point pride got the better of me anyway and I just told myself to figure it out. Going back was not an option. Besides, why would they even want me after the temper tantrum I threw?

A month passed and my replacement was set to start at the end of the month. In those last days, I felt like a man on death row, clock counting down and the wardens foot steps in the distance. Pretty soon I would be walking the green mile to an uncertain future. I just tried to keep it together and began rummaging through the internet in search of any kind of employment that would help me feed my habit of taking care my family. During that month though, something odd happened. I had completely change my view of this place I had come to loath.

Now when I came into work, I began to smile. I became more proactive and just did a complete 180 from the monster that had inhabited a dingy little work space. Maybe it was my acceptance of the situation. Or could it be the fact that panicked moment of what was to come, I realized that I had spent all my energy blaming others for a situation that was totally within my control. I was letting them get the better of me.

The biggest lesson I learned in all this, was that I am the one that decides how I feel. If I choose to let it bother me, then it is my fault. If I choose to make the best of it then it certainly makes the job that much easier. A lesson I could apply not only to my career, but also to my health. I am the one that decides what I eat and when I exercise. I also decide to make the process easy or hard. The difference between failure or success is how I approach problems when they arise. Instead of making irrational, destructive choices, I need to put my rancor on pause and think through the consequences of my actions. Stupid is as stupid does.

Fortunately, the powers that be saw fit to give me clemency. The person they had hired to replace me bailed at the last minute and with a new outlook on things, my tenure was reinstated. I am happy to report I am still gainfully employed and firmly embroiled in the fight for the legal tender. Now I just have to hope they don't catch me writing these blogs on company time. If that is the case though, at least when you see me on the unemployment line, you'll know it wasn't because I let the man get me down!