A Birthday Card and a Resignation Letter Walk into a CEO's Office...

Life is a series of decisions; hard decisions, easy decisions, good decisions, bad decisions. I have trouble deciding what toppings I want on my pizza, so making the big, life altering kinds of decisions is something I try to avoid. But sometimes, those decisions refuse to be ignored. Such was the case a few weeks ago when I turned my future into one big question mark.

It's 7:30am on a Wednesday in late August. I'm at my desk ready to dry heave, completely panicked, because... it's happening. I'm going to step down from my job without a clue what I'm going to do next. (Pause for "Are you crazy?!" mental shouting.)

Here's the deal. My job is amazing and so are the people that I work with. I've learned invaluable skills, traveled the country, and crafted messages for a massive brand. I've progressed further in my career than I could have ever dreamed in such a short amount of time, but that hasn't come without sacrifices. A lof of them. (And also some scars. Literally.) I know this big, scary decision will make me whole again, and I've been making excuses to put it off long enough.

Which brings us back to my mic drop moment.

I have a great amount of respect for my (now former) company's CEO, and I don't want to disappoint him. With my better judgment fogged by the weight of emotions I'm trying to wrangle, I walk into his office with what I deem to be a peace offering... in the form of a greeting card. My opening line:

"I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is, I have your birthday card. The bad news is, I also have my letter of resignation." 

Y'all. I said that. Out loud. To the CEO of a major company. No, it's not his actual birthday; that's tomorrow. But let's focus on the positives here: a) I know when my boss' birthday is and b) I didn't quit on my boss' birthday.

Our conversation actually goes better than I expected. There isn't any yelling or bartering. He's disappointed, but sees the determination in my eyes that there's no changing my mind. And he's right.

Two weeks later I walk out a life where I knew exactly what to expect, and into one where choosing pizza toppings is the least of my worries.

I couldn't be more excited.

Let me be clear here: I'm not embarking on some deep, meaningful life mission Eat, Pray, Love style. I just came to the stark realization that if I'm ever going to take this kind of a risk, it's when I'm 27, single, free of mortgages and children, spending most of my free time talking to a dog.

So that's what I'm doing: exploring new cities where I could possibly live (lookin' at you Portland, L.A., Seattle, Nashville and Denver), pursuing new career opportunities, and writing. Lots and lots of writing.

I'm hoping to write for myself and for other people. For me in the sense that maybe I'll finally make some progress on that book I told you about. For other people as I try to figure out the freelancing world. Want me to write about your mom's quilting obsession or your company's new product? I'm happy to do both. Just as long as you help me finance Roxie's treat stash.

Some people will shake their heads at me and call me "one of those millennials." If a millennial is someone who doesn't take the easy road, who runs away from regret, and who chases the promise of adventure -- then I suppose I am one. Feel free to pigeon-hole me.

But now an official week into this weird adventure, my favorite part is this. Whenever someone asks, "What are you going to do next?" I get to give this response:

"Whatever I want."

No comments:

Post a Comment