So I finally did it. I quit my job.
It’s not really a biggie since I seem to do this all the time.
I don’t understand why I keep trying to fit in to the mould that is just not me.
I think I do it to prove to myself that I can do it. And that I do but it seriously does not make me happy and my resolve disintegrates faster and faster each time.
Last corporate job I held was over 6 years ago and I spent a good solid 4 years there before I decided it was time to go out on my own.
This time I think we can safely say that the law of diminishing returns was abruptly cut short with my 3-month stint in this place.
And I don’t even regret it.
I’m not even worried for the future.
My earning power and naturally my saving rate would be great decreased but I have got my time back and more importantly, my mind, my sanity.
I’m not walking around in a foggy daze where my decisions are not clear and my thinking is constantly clouded due to a combination of sleep, motivation and probably too much caffeine.
What is next for me? I’m pursuing another job that I actually will enjoy.
In the meantime, while I wait for that recruitment cycle to finalise, I’m considering volunteering my time and skills to refugees in need. I have a skill set that will greatly improve their chances of seeking asylum and it would definitely be more meaningful (at least I hope) than what I’m doing now or have been doing up to this point.
I’m also writing a lot more. Currently I’ve got a beautiful bottle of Shiraz and penning some really trashy romantic fiction. I figure I’ll give it a go just for the sake of it. I don’t think I’m any good at it but then I won’t know till I pump this out and get someone else to read it. preferably someone who loves this stuff so they can tell me whether it’s readable or just trash. I’m leaning towards the latter and not because I’m my worst critic but because I simply don’t care for the genre yet it’s kicking my arse.
I would rather write non-fiction than fiction because with non-fiction I’m happy with it being 70% done and not necessarily polished. A lot of my posts and articles kind of have a hurried wrap up conclusion because that’s around the time that I start losing interest in writing it. I often lose steam around that point and decide that is the natural end point. I might as well finish the whole thing with ‘and then he woke up’ the worst trope for any short story.
But with fiction I feel like I have to be descriptive, I have to transport the reader, I have to be imaginative and creative and write from experience but also at the same time, not write from experience. I doubt too much when I ‘create’ fiction.
I know what I’m writing with non-fiction and everything can be fact checked. That’s probably why I am finding it extremely difficult to craft these romantic shorts. As much as I deride cliché Hollywood rom-coms, it takes a shit tonne of effort and brain power to write those. Mad props to those writers.
This time off has also made me appreciate that I built up a business that I can ramp up and down as much as I want and when I want when the time comes. This business took me around the world and kept me funded. I’ve neglected it of course in pursuit of other things because it wasn’t something I enjoyed per se, it was, as I’ve always called it, something to pay the bills with but it’s only now that I truly appreciate what a gift it was to me.
So that’s also a reason why I’m not terribly upset or worried about the income stream.
Today I read an article on Millennial Revolution (something I recently started reading) and it was an article called ‘fuck-over-ability index’. Something I experienced all too well when I was working in my last corporate job. It was literally as it played out in the scenario in the article.
My boss said to me ‘we gotta lock you down with a property’. This was shortly before I quit and took my entire team with me, upending him and putting our company in a precarious situation with quarterly reporting 3 weeks out. It was glorious. His face lit up red as he tried to calmly say ‘it’s cool, I don’t care’.
My fuck-over-ability score is so low that I don’t give a shit about being the agitator at work anymore. I was deliberately frustrating one entitled old white man at work just because I could. I had no other reason to except maybe the work was beneath me and that his attitude towards me was rather unfair considering he knew absolutely NOTHING about me.
I am that blasé about my situation that it probably worries my family and friends. But they’re pretty much used to it. I’m also used to it. I’m also used to being able to get any job I want afterwards. I was in my tiny European country with no language skills and no network and in the space of 3 months was offered 3 jobs. And they weren’t even cleaning jobs. I think I can say that I have the abilities to gain employment wherever I am. The question is whether I want to be in someone’s employ or not.
Being my own boss for the last couple of years has taken its toll on me. I was never good with authority in the first place and coupled with my delusions of grandeur, it’s a dangerous mix for any employer. Maybe I am that impatient millennial that everyone heaps stereotypes on. Or maybe I just want to live my life outside of the conservative confines of this ridiculously capitalist society.
Today I did a political compass test because we have elections coming up and it’s not like I didn’t know where I leaned but I wanted to see where the parties stood in relation to my views. It turns out I am way more left leaning than I originally thought. It seems my stint in the tiny European country has shown me a working socialist society that I have fully integrated those values into mine and now I am going to be voting that way. Who would have thought.
And now a sentence I read echoes in my brain: she won’t fully understand it till she experiences it.
[Circling back, I just banged out 1000 words for this post in the space of 15 mins yet I spent the entire day writing my romantic short and only managed 1800 words. If we count the other 3 stories I started and stopped, that’s another 1500 words. I’m clearly better suited for non-fiction writing than the creative writing. The verdict is still out on whether any of THIS is good but whatever, I don’t care. I am awesome/deluded]