When I decided to resign, I thought the hard part was over. I discussed it with my husband, who was behind me all the way. I spoke with my bosses, which was a bit tough. There was no epiphany, no celestial sign or straw that broke the camel’s back. Simply put, I was in a situation where I had to decide what would be best for my family, and follow through on what I felt had to be done. It is not an easy thing to do.
People talk about having to leave your ‘comfort zone‘ in order to succeed in life. Well, I know thousands of moms would do anything for the opportunity to have this choice, but unless you are truly miserable at work, believe me when I say that walking away from your job is the ultimate in comfort zone abandonment. My income is gone, my independence is compromised, my identity has shifted. Nope, not comfortable at all.
So, I made my decision, notified everyone who needed to know, and began to prepare. I gave three weeks notice. Three weeks of explaining to everyone why I decided to quit. Three weeks of questions, reactions and comments. Most of my coworkers understood, some did not. The most memorable reaction was the one from my direct report, Emily. I was typing up my notice when she breezes into my office.
“Whatcha doin’?” she asked as she skirted around my desk to see what I was working on. Yes, she is nosy that way, but it never bothered me. I would always tell her to mind her own business if I was handling anything sensitive. It did make it a bit challenging to write her reviews and performance reports.
“Writing my resignation letter,” I replied. She was going to find out sooner or later.
“What? Stop it!” she said. She looked at my monitor and turned a little pale. “You are not kidding!”
“Nope, not kidding,” I told her.
She was a bit shocked and upset. She complained for a few days. She told me, “It was not supposed to work this way. You were supposed to get Andy’s job (my boss) and I was supposed to get your job. This sucks!”
I know how unsettling it is to have a well-liked boss move on with little notice, so I sympathized. All in all, she took it rather well. But don’t feel bad for her. The nosy little goober has my job now. She fully deserves it, though.
So after the last three weeks I was ready to exchange my cluttered office for my cluttered kitchen. I must admit I did get cold feet the last day, and very nearly ran to HR to tell them to forget the whole thing, I would be back on Monday. But I didn’t, and Monday came along with me getting ready to make breakfast for my 3-year-old around the same time I would be looking for a good parking spot at work.
As it turned out, it was the right thing to do at the time. Six weeks later, my Dad passed away.
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