But I was good at it, organized, empathetic, knowledgeable, and relatively patient with even the most demanding clients. Being good at it made it tough to walk away, no matter how much I wanted to.
And I wanted to. But after doing the same thing for so many years, I was afraid of stepping out of my comfort zone to try something new. And I was not ready to pursue my writing as anything but a hobby.
That began to change when I was forced through a series of different positions in the same company. The more I bounced around, the more miserable I became. At one point, I handed in my two-weeks notice, but I was sweet talked into staying.
Not my best move. But I prefer to think that I needed that last little bit of bouncing from position to position.
My final landing place was at an onsite location at a large corporation. I worked at their site, but I worked for the travel agency, not for them. It wasn’t horrible, and I was starting to feel settled and a little less antsy.
And then the floor dropped out from under my feet.
And, okay, I kind of asked for it.
I should probably explain. Last September, around my birthday, I wrote a list of intentions. The top of the list was to find a way out of that job and to find a way to commit to my writing.
About two weeks later, my work life imploded.
On Monday, I was asked to help out on another account for a few days as they were short-staffed and we were slow. I agreed mainly because it meant working with my good friend, Theresa.
I had a sinking feeling, though. I don’t always trust my gut, but this time, wow!
By Wednesday, I was being ‘asked’ to fill in ‘from time to time.’ How annoyingly vague is that? But my gut knew the answer.
They wanted me to split my time between my current account and any number of other accounts. It wasn’t something that I wanted to do and, after all of the bouncings, I wasn’t comfortable with it.
As the week progressed, I felt more and more uneasy. But I took some action, too. I realized that I had a decent safety net. Leap and the net will appear, right?
By Friday, I was told that it wasn’t a choice. Funny thing but that day was my twenty-year anniversary with the company. I felt manipulated and disrespected.
And for once in my life, I spoke up for myself. I told my manager that I wasn’t interested and that I would give her my final answer on Monday. By the end of the conversation, I was on nauseated and on the verge of tears.
My worst day ever. Kind of.
But I already knew, in my gut, and in my heart, what that answer would be.
It was long past time for me to move on, to try something new, and to make writing a priority.
I leaped. And I leaped hard!
I couldn’t even wait until Monday. I called my boss on Sunday morning and quit.
Best. Day. Ever.
Okay, I’ll qualify that. It was terrifying. And gut-wrenching. And oh-so-right!
I know that because I haven’t had a single moment of regret. I know because even when the CEO of my company called me, I didn’t cave in.
So that horrific Friday doesn’t seem so bad after all. It was a not-so-gentle nudge out the damned door.
It was the best worst day ever!