Years ago I was offered a magazine job in New York while I was out of the country. I would still be gone for another month, but the editor said he was willing to wait for my return. After I got back, the day before my official start date as a senior editor, he invited me to join him for lunch and meet the team. The next morning, after a sleepless night, I called him to say I had changed my mind—that I had made a mistake, that I thought it was better I tell him now and that I was really sorry. (I didn’t tell him that I had suddenly realized I really wanted the freedom to work on my own as a freelancer.) He was understandably angry—he had held the job open for me all these weeks, he said—and quickly hung up the phone. A few days later I was hired by a major publisher to work on my first book project.
It was the only time that I ever quit a job before I started it, but it wasn’t the only job I ever quit. I’ve been lucky to have opportunities in the media business—and job hopping is not unusual, particularly in New York, the media capital.
This topic has been on my mind lately after a series of high-profile House Republicans have quit their jobs without waiting until the end of their two-year terms. By The Washington Post’s tally, the six resignations without another public position lined up represent the most early departures for at least the last four decades. Think how bad a job has to be that you can’t even stick it out a few more months. Well, we’ve all seen the extreme dysfunction in this GOP-led House and its inability or refusal to legislate, so maybe the question is: How many more members are thinking of getting the hell out?
“This place just keeps going downhill, and I don’t need to spend my time here,” a blunt Colorado Rep. Ken Buck told reporters after announcing he was resigning. Yesterday, Buck’s last day, Wisconsin Rep. Mike Gallagher also said he was leaving as of April 19. The net effect of these departures: The Republicans—with a 217-213 majority—can only afford one defection if Democrats vote together. When Buck was asked last week about the impact of his quitting, he answered, "I think it's the next three people that leave that they're going to be worried about." (And then there’s GOP troublemaker Marjorie Taylor Green filing a motion to oust Speaker Mike Johnson after the House passed appropriation bills to avoid a government shutdown. Speaker Hakeem Jeffries anyone?)
You are welcome to weigh in on the House resignations, but I’m intrigued to hear your stories about jobs you had and jobs you left. What went wrong? And how did you follow it up and keep the lights on? In short, what job have you quit? And, in hindsight, do you think you made the right decision? Maybe you’d like to share a horror story about a bad boss. (Oh, have I had a few.)
As always, I look forward to the opportunity for this community to hear from each other. Please do be respectful in your remarks. Trolling will not be tolerated.
If you’re not already, please consider becoming a paid subscriber for just $5 a month or $50 a year. This helps sustain and expand the work of America, America, keep nearly all the content free for everyone and give you full access to the comments sections.
I was a travel RN during ‘09 - ‘15. I lived and worked in six states. I had to wait 3 months to receive my California license, but I was so excited to get there, as I have friends and cousins there.
Many hospitals consider travel RNs as temp workers. We usually get a 13 week assignment. There was a hospital in Sonoma County - which I will not name - that treated us terribly. I worked the 12 hour night shift, 7pm - 7am. The manager scheduled me to work 4 nights in a row, which is hard on the circadian rhythms even when you’re a regular employee. The 4th night, they wanted me to float to another unit. I was exhausted, I didn’t know the Doctors in that unit, I didn’t know the room numbers, I didn’t know where to hang my jacket, where to put my lunch. I had not been oriented to that unit. I called the night supervisor and told her I couldn’t do it, it would potentially compromise patient safety. She was very angry with me. I had two weeks left on that assignment, so I left. Walked out, never looked back, and I found another assignment in the East Bay, which was wonderful.
I have used my masters degrees in biostatistics (MPH) and writing (MFA) to access many different jobs. I am 60 years old and have held positions as a systems analyst, program developer, research scientist, law firm practice support professional, civil/human rights specialist, and community public affairs journalist (radio and print).
I have had plenty of jobs where the environment and the corporate ethic was more than just one that followed the law but that embraced folks in a humane way.
I have had a few where that was not the case. Always. And I mean always, I have left them. Not always wise in terms of having income, but wise in terms of keeping my sanity and dignity.
***
My approach to when to leave a job is half informed by self-confidence but also informed by an ethos that runs in my family related to their history under Jim Crowism and the stories shared within my family about work for White folk amongst my parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents, grand uncles and aunts, and the like.
I can best relate that ethos by sharing the following.
***
I grew up in poverty.
On welfare.
Mostly I was raised by my mother after my father really didn’t want to raise six kids. He took two. My mother took four and raised them after giving birth to her sixth and finding my dad in bed with another woman. My dad is not a bad person. Not by a long shot. My mom died 20 years ago. Her mother and ancestors hail from North Carolina. My dad is alive and kicking at 82 years old. His mother and ancestors hail from Georgia. I love him.
My father is a good man, but, he was a man in the past who thought more often than not with the head below his waist than the one atop his shoulders. Plus, he had to walk a difficult path with my mom who was bipolar. Though divorced, he was there for her—not always but still, some days—in very empathetic ways.
I was raised Catholic, and neither my mother nor father had yet reached 26 before their sixth child was born. My dad wanted out. Separation came in 1969. Divorce after that. My dad remarried and took the two youngest. He and my mother found foster homes and group homes for the four eldest. Spent my life there before returning to my mom in a single parent household—a household that my dad supported in only one way, namely paying $35 month tuition per child at Catholic schools.
My mom did the rest.
On welfare.
***
This is a long prelude to explain that all my closest relatives are maternal. I guess that’s what I really wanted to say.
And my sensibilities, my politics, my ethos in life, comes from my mother and her mother, my grandma Pearline, who on many days took care of us when my mom, bipolar, had those days where she was too far gone to be present if you know what I mean.
My grandmother was born barely more than 50 years after slavery ended. This means my mother grew up having just escaped Jim Crow laws in the South and was “lucky enough” to be born in New York City. But, “Up-North”—as some Black people call it due to New York’s different brand of, shall we say, oppression—provided no one of my mother’s generation respite from being disrespected at worth.
***
I once had a conversation with someone about my decision to leave two years ago a law firm I had been with for nearly two decades (17 years), due largely to the ineffective response by the largely White partnership to bullying/targeting I experienced by a Black supervisor speciously charging racism by Human Resources as a hedge to keep her job abusing all folks emotionally (including Black folk like me).
I suspect that she suspected that a risk averse law firm, largely led by progressive Whites, would not stand up to her because she could take her charges, however specious, and embarrass them publicly.
***
Just to be clear, since I don't want people who are not Black and who are reading this to presume the worst, as folks sometimes do, about "ALL" Black people.
Most Black folk (I am one) still believe they are perceiving racism even though that may or may not be the intent of the person they perceive it coming from.
No one should doubt my supervisor perceived racism, or at least wanted desperately to believe that was the case. She was not a person who tended to be self-reflective and believe she could be wrong. That's the nicest way I can put it.
***
But...
In truth—and even if one were to give her the benefit of the doubt—what she may have perceived simply was not there.
The department where I worked was more than 50% people of color and the department head—who himself was African American—tried six times to fire her. His considered attempts were overturned each time by the overwhelmingly White partnership of the Top 100 American Lawyer international law firm where I worked.
What's more, no Black co-worker I knew of believed the charges of racism my supervisor lodged against her White co-workers (four of them in total). She charged it once against one of her African American subordinates who would not join in her complaint to Human Resources about a fellow White co-worker. She alleged her subordinate, a Black woman older than she, was unable to see racism as well as she could. Yes dear reader, I roll my eyes too.
***
You see the pattern? I suspect her perceptions became a way, consciously or unconsciously to avoid responsibility for bullying and emotionally abusive behavior. It was the fastest, easiest, and most readily available tact to take to keep from being fired.
My supervisor suspected, correctly, her employer would choose to tread water and tolerate her bullying even though it affected in deeply deleterious ways those in her charge.
My apologies for this very long aside, but there may be folks (however few, dear reader) inclined to suspect most Black folk perceive racism where it may not exist.
No doubt what we perceive at times may not be true. No doubt that sometimes when true, racism may not be the intent. Alas, intent or lack of it is no excuse. Just had to be clear here about this, so folks understand where I am coming from.
***
Now, back to my friend who wondered why I was so willing to leave a position that I had been at for nearly 20 years due solely to one person who was, and I am being kind here, an unrepentant jerk.
I told him the story of my Grandma Pearline and juxtaposed it against the story of my mother. Both worked as domestics but had vastly different experiences.
My mother’s experience was wonderful. She became close friends with her employer (a White Jewish woman who could have been her great grandmother), and she was left a five-figure monetary gift in her employer’s will.
One day, grandma Pearline was called a “n*gger” as she was being asked why she had arrived less than an hour late for her job as a domestic. She let it pass and went straight to her ironing duties.
Now my grandmother was very world weary, and, she, of course, had heard this word more than once from her employer, a White woman not that much older than she, but the context for her lateness?
She had to take one of her kids, ill with the pneumonia, to see a doctor.
After she explained that, the woman called her a “n*gger” again, and said she was never ever again to show up late. With control and intention, she picked up the iron, hit the woman in the head with it. And left. She was arrested and served time. She told me that every single bit of what happened in response was worth it. Even the jail time.
***
It's hard to explain but many Black folk are taught employment is worth less than our dignity and the right to self-respect. That certainly is what I was taught. This was *THE* lesson taught me by both my grandmother and my mother.
I take unusual risks, many related to principle and what I feel. That's risky and not necessarily prudent in some folks’ eyes, but it's how I have always lived my life. On some level, it's baked into me. That's how I explain it to those who think me foolhardy.
I grew up African descendant and queer (married for 23 years to a White man I love, who is the best spouse one could have).
Too, I grew up in a politically astute family—politically astute in terms of their humanity and response to racism not politically active in electoral politics—whose members always faced oppression either due to their class status, race, gender, sexual orientation, etc.
Essentially, I grew up in a family where to a person, we were not afraid to end employment based on a stance that had to do with preserving your self-respect and humanity.
Almost everyone in my family amongst my mother's generation was fired for—or quit a job after—taking a stance because they could not abide being mistreated or otherwise forced not to live their humanity.
On some level, that humanity—the politic of humanity is perhaps a more apt phrase—is more important than continuous employment because, in my family, my mother, my grandmother, my brothers and sisters have always found a way to survive.
***
So many Black folk are raised to suspect that perceptions of racism and slights are always real and if you perceive that, you fight with every breath to help people in power respect you as a human being.
In other words, you can find self-respect in other places than your job, and when you don’t have it in your job, demand it, and if after you demand it, things remain the same, then move on, hopefully with your dignity intact.
That is a tenet in so many African American households. Move on when people don't have the countenance to respect stands you take to protect your politic of humanity. Your personhood and dignity is worth more than a job. That's the best way I can explain it.
I quit a computer repair job in 1982 when I inadvertently found out that I was training a man with absolutely no experience in electronics (I'd had 10 years of experience in the field at that point) who was making the same pay as me.
When I confronted the business owner, she said that she couldn't afford to pay me more. I replied that I therefore couldn't afford to work for her, and promptly left that afternoon. I'd had good client feedback, showed up for work every day, and knew my job; she had no complaints about my performance.
I did freelance software development for a year when the owner called me because she needed an experienced technician and couldn't find one. I negotiated a fair wage and decent benefits, and returned to that job. A couple of years later, I started my own repair business and liked being my own boss much better than working for someone else. It took a leap of faith with both changes, but it ultimately worked out.
I decided to return to school at 35, as my self-employment schedule allowed me to do this, and graduated with a doctorate at 43. It's never too late to try something new!
The first summer after high school graduation a friend got me a job in a factory sewing garments. At 8: am a bell sounded all the machines turned on. All day stacks arrived on my right side, I'd pick up a garment, buzz, pass it to my left. At ten the bell. At 10:10 the bell. At 12: the bell. At 1: the bell, and so the days went. I was a machine, not allowed anything but the oil of a check every two weeks. I lasted one month until I quit. The hardest job I ever had required nothing but me sitting pushing a foot peddle. But, I developed empathy for those stuck in these jobs.
1973, I was 20 years old. One day I learned that a man hired after me, that I had been asked to train, was making more money than me. When I asked my boss about it he told me, “he has a family to support”. My response was, so do I, I need to be paid an equitable wage.
While I was waiting for a response to my request for an equitable wage one of our customers expressed dissatisfaction with the work we had done for them. I was asked to go to their office the next day and correct the problem. “Oh, and, why don’t you were your blue dress?”
For over a year I'd been working at a golf course grill at a resort near a small town in Texas; I lived about 15 miles away. Things were going fine with the job until the manager slipped and cracked her kneecap, so I had to do much of her job as well as mine, with no raise. I was just hoping she'd eventually be back once she'd recovered from surgery. On top of that, the place had just been bought by an arrogant oilman who'd never worked in the restaurant business at all before but just assumed that it'd be easy since he went out to eat a lot. Seriously, he actually said that! One of our other workers had quit so the new owner hired a new worker who also had zero experience in the field, a very privileged fratboy-type who probably never worked anywhere before as far as I knew, but his father played golf with the owner and went hunting with him, so junior got the gig. His first day at work, instead of being there at 7am to open with me, he didn't show up, just left me high and dry with a golf tournament full of hungry and thirsty golfers in a hurry to make their tee times. I took care of everything by myself; I took the orders, made the drinks, cooked and served the food, bussed the tables, washed the dishes, etc. People had to wait longer than they'd expected and there was nothing I could do about it but just hustle like crazy.
FINALLY, around noon, after a particularly frantic few hours working alone in a job that usually had three workers, junior stumbled in with no apology for his tardiness, just some vague grumbling about how he was too hungover to be expected get there so early.
I told him I had to grab something from my truck. I grabbed my purse and keys and my tips from the tip jar, hopped into my truck, drove off and never looked back. I didn't formally quit, I was just DONE with that place so I baled. This was in the early 1990s before cell phones so nobody could reach me, which was perfect as far as I was concerned.
I think I've only ever left one job. I've suffered layoffs, and businesses relocating, but the one I quit was as a canvasser/field manager for an environmental lobby called Clean Water Action Project. Fortunately I no bad experiences to relate concerning my time there. Fabulous, dedicated co-workers and bosses. Some of the highest quality folks I've ever met. I finally quit from the burn out of 24-7 commitment. Absolutely no regrets for time spent there, or the decision to leave.
The first job I had was one I really couldn't quit -- US Navy Officer. That one lasted for 11 years and then I moved on. Went to law school after that and ended up work for the Air Force working in contract fraud section. I loved the job, had a great bosses, but the work environment was toxic. Thankfully, I was able to combine my military time with my civilian time and retire as soon as I was eligible. It was amazing to compare the two services--so glad my military career was with the Navy! It was all good -- like your story - it all worked out in the end and I never looked back.
Of the few positions where I have quit, they all boil down to weaponized incompetence being tolerated and rewarded (while others who are amazing workers are continuously shat upon) and/or due to demeaning, out of touch leadership - with a touch of fiscal irresponsibility sprinkled in.
I'm at a point in my life where I refuse to deal with either. It's not worth it and I *am* worthy of more.
The summer after my freshman year of college I got a job as a hostess at a chain burger joint in my hometown. The hostess stand included a case for donuts that were delivered daily. One morning, the store manager dropped the entire box of donuts on the floor of the kitchen and told me to pick them all up and put the less damaged ones in the front case. I hadn’t taken a food safety class, but I knew this was hygienically and morally wrong and quit on the spot. A few days later, I got a job at Knott’s Berry Farm, the So Cal amusement park. I spent three fun summers working there, and never set foot in the lousy burger place again.
Years ago I worked as a reporter for an independent chain of newspapers in a Philly suburb. I was covering a major murder trial for one of the papers (this trial engendered four books or five books and TV ovie). My editor at the second paper was very jealous that I was covering this, so she would bring me back on the in-between days to write headlines and cover what I considered “small stories” about pets getting into sewers, etc. Another (female) reporter in the newsroom was also the object of her wrath and ended up leaving. Finally, I went to the editor in chief and told him I just wanted to work for the one local paper (which necessitated looking for additional work). I told him why. He asked me if I could reason with my editor because we’d been friendly at one point. I told him I didn’t want to be around her, the environment was getting toxic and I was suffering a lot of anxiety as a result. This decision was risky, but it forced me to approach every other publication in town. In time, I started to freelance for magazines. I never regretted my decision.
I live in California and as a college student in the 80’s I was willing to do anything. I once took a landscaping job as a worker. I worked one day and didn’t even go back to collect my paycheck. The way the ‘boss’ treated the laborers was horrendous and mean. He used racist language and constantly belittled the other workers. As the only fluent English speaker other than the leads, I couldn’t take it. To me, the lessons I learned as a young Latino man living in Southern California and the way immigrants were treated was more than any paycheck I could have taken. I was afraid of my own behavior if I ever saw that labor boss again.
I have been working full time since 1978. I've had about a dozen jobs, always in small companies. I quit all of them, except one. In 1979 I was late to my shift as a front desk clerk at a hotel in Monterey, CA. My boyfriend had a paranoid episode & kidnapped me the night before. My boss apparently didn't believe me and I was let go. I really do hope things have changed for young women these days.
I was a young associate lawyer at a New Jersey law firm. After three years I was told there was no partnership in the foreseeable future. I quit right on the spot though I had no other position lined up and hadn’t even look for one. (Within a week I had several job offers).
I moved about 80 miles from my home to take on the leadership role for a helping nonprofit that was located in a medium sized city. I came from a much less populated area and thought I needed to see what I could accomplish in a more urban environment. That a shock! The nonprofit environment was fiercely competitive and I was not at all prepared for people who were oriented toward power and scarcity thinking. I came from an area that never had enough to go around but we addressed community needs through collaboration and non-duplication of services.
I quickly realized that I did not want to make the changes necessary to be successful in a cut throat and aggressive environment. I got the org reoriented in the direction the board's new strategic plan all the while developing an exit plan for myself. I lasted an exhausting two years then returned to the area where I had grown up professionally. Those trusting collaborative relationships benefitted me by easing my reentry into a more satisfying professional life. I love a lot about the city where I lived and learned some important lessons about my personal/professional strengths and weaknesses.
I quit after winning one of the largest contracts in a Fortune 500 company's history. When I told my boss he responded that he had just sent out an email to the corporate executives commending me for the win. Of course I was not copied and didn't know anything about it since he never said anything nice to me. I just said thanks and handed him a miniature bottle of Maker's Mark bourbon and told him he may want to drink it. This was a boss who previously told me to stick my hand in a bucket of water and pull it out to see what impression I made. Also, the cemetery is full of people who thought they were irreplaceable. Believe me, I would not have quit this great company if he had shown any respect to me. Life is too short to put up with nonsense.
I didn't quit per say, but have instead made two internal transfers in my company doing the same work for different segments of the company. I'd been promised work more in line with what I was interested in doing and capable of handling, but the work never came and the promises were never kept by two different supervisors. Consequently I had to leave those positions in order to advance my own skills and promote myself. I haven't burned bridges upon leaving and I don't regret the decision to leave those jobs. Due to personal circumstances I'm actually trying to move back to my previous job even tho I know I won't be content in the long run. I'm envious of the job hoppers that are confident enough to be able to do that and improve their situation. I wish I was.
Before I got my degree and worked as a professional, I quit many jobs (as most younger people toiling in low-wage jobs do). After I obtained my degree and began work as a professional, I didn’t quit a job until nearly 15 years later. I was hired as an environmental professional for a forest products company - its first environmental professional. I immediately conducted an audit of regulatory requirements versus the current state of operations. Holy hell but it was bad! Decades of non-compliance up to and including criminal violations and in my role, I could be the DF (designated felon). I made an appointment with the corporate attorney to present my findings and advised self disclosure to the Oregon DEQ, which recently implemented a program where companies self-disclosing could see penalties reduced by 75%. His response was, “Why would we do that?” I submitted my resignation after a couple more months. The only other job I quickly left was where I was entirely fooled during the interview by the woman who would be my manager. She was ridiculously awful and I was gone in six months.
I once worked as a director in the supply chain side for a large company. My immediate supervisor was someone who had no supply chain experience and had held their position for less that a year when I came on board. I was hired by a Senior VP because of my recognized expertise.
When I was hired, I negotiated time off to attend and to continue presenting papers at supply chain conferences.
The supervisor resented my time away to present at these conferences. Long story short, my supervisor was toxic and insecure. My day to day dealings were not collegial and a great deal of time was spent pointing out how they could do it better. More often than not, their suggestions cost the company money - to the point that the Senior VP directed my supervisor in writing to stop and let me do my job.
Two days before I was scheduled to present a paper at a large regional supply chain conference, the supervisor came into my office and said I could not go, but that they would go in my place and read my paper. The hiring VP was on international travel with the CEO and unavailable. I had no avenue to appeal her decision. I quit on the spot and went to the conference.
By the time I left the conference I had a solid job offer from one company and a proposal to work as a consultant with another firm. Quitting turned out to be one of the best career moves ever.
Left a nonprofit job I was at for nearly 20 years. I was at my ceiling for growth and (probably) compensation, but after all those years I had thought that there might be consideration for intangible benefits along the way. During the pandemic, the staff was told we would not be forced to return to the office, until the day in May 2021 when we were told that everyone was required to return to the office. I put together a proposal to work remotely because surely after all those years they would see my performance, personal needs and work plan, and allow one of their longest tenured employees the option to stay remote.
The request was declined. Four weeks later I submitted my resignation after accepting a new job, where my manager doesn't care about my work environment as long as I get the work done. Imagine that.
I was in my 7th year as a naval supply officer. Was wrapping up a great assignment. Deciding what to do next. A key to my decision was that I had a kidney disease that restricted me to shore duty jobs only ( not ideal in the Navy). A senior Pentagon official advised me to file a medical board (I’d certainly be discharged but retain some health benefits).
I loved what I did, thought through all possible scenarios. I worked alongside a 42 yo LCdr who was retiring but struggling to find a job. I decided it was time to get out.
I filed my medical paperwork. The next day I received an j related call from O4 detailed (I was O3) offering me head supply job at Naval Air Station Brunswick Maine. (As a youth we’d vacationed in Maine every summer. Love the state)
I explained that I had just filed for a medical board. He suggested I pull my request and take the job. I explained when I make a decision, I had looked at all possibilities, and thus do not change my mind.
The next day I got a call from a corporate recruiter and in a month I had a great job offer. That job led me to working around the world, my family living in Germany for 5 years. Definitely the right move.
I worked for several not-for-profit agencies in the 1980s and 1990s, and loved the work. However, one job I was offered as a Director of an agency turned out to be very unpleasant because the prior director stayed on at the head office as a regional director, and made herself the overseer of my small agency. She clearly could not let go of the job I now had. All the other smaller agency offices were overseen by the main office’s Executive Director, so I was the only one under her. Any idea I had for the agency had to go through her, and she would nix the idea before even letting me try it out. Finally, I discovered that I could get the idea accepted if I made her think that the idea was hers. After 18 months of this I had to leave, it was far too stressful. I did not have a job waiting in the wings, so it was scary, but I felt my mental health was more important than money. I did finally get another job with the local town’s housing department, running a new Federal Section 8 program where I was able to help about thirty families (many single mothers) with their successful movement towards owning their own place. The job I left had been one of the most fulfilling jobs I ever had, and I can still feel sad (and even angry) even after all these years, and I am now a 77 year old retiree.
I quit three jobs over my decades-long foray into the workplace. One when I was 14 selling magazine subscriptions over the telephone to numbers dialed at random. We were told "If the person who answers the phone sounds like a "colored person," thank them for answering your questions and hang up. They don't pay." The other was much later in my career working for a well-known university for a person who knew nothing about supervising people. She hardly ever met with me or spoke to me in a four-person office in which I held the second-paid highest job. She communicated by email even though our offices were right next to each other separated by a shared wall. When I quit after a couple of months I informed her via email. The third was a contract museum job. The only thing I can say is that it was a dumpster fire to work there. I don't like quitting jobs. Sometimes, you have no choice. I have been a freelancer for about 20 years now and it is what I have always wanted. No more working for the man.
I worked for a bank in the 1980s while going to, then dropping out of college. I was mad that I didn’t get the lateral role I wanted into IT (I was a supervisor with about 6 years there) and quit to take a job mowing grass during the day and studying coding during the night. Got a job in IT with a goal of learning the business and starting my own. Quit that to start my IT business - today employing 100+ people. Awesome ride.
I quit a job editing a city newspaper in the South. I have always been a strong newspaper Guild member. I even worked to unionize a newspaper I owned (the reporters were not interested). The owners in the South brought in Union busting lawyers to teach us how to undermine unions. I quit rather than put myself in a position of having to cross a picket line. I never have.
I had a horrible boss at IBM. I basically got myself fired and started my own technology company, which I successfully ran for 30 years, sold and retired at 60. My boss did me a big favor.
I worked my way through college; scholarship and financial aid weren’t enough to enable me to buy books, etc. Somehow I found out about an after hours cleaning job in downtown Minneapolis and figured one doesn’t need a BA to push a mop. The job was 10pm to 3am in a retail lobby area next to a major department store.
Well, this was my first experience cleaning public restrooms and I was surprised to find that the men’s bathroom was much worse than the women’s. There were used condoms in the urinals! (Or at least I assumed that’s what they were, having never seen such a thing before.)
I also found it odd that men were following me around as I swept and mopped and dusted. They would slur things like “Shay baby, where’s the akshun?” I actually responded with various comments like “Do I look like I know anything about action?” Or “I’m just here to clean the toilets.”
Someone finally told me that little lobby was a well-known pickup place for johns to meet hookers. And so, after only three nights, at $1.50/hour, I quit. I suppose I could have made a lot more if I did a different kind of business there.
It was jobs like this that made me know why I needed a degree. After I finished grad school I started a 40+ year career in human services that was more challenging, exciting and rewarding than I could ever have dreamed.
I worked for two days at Legg Mason as a telecommunications analyst. I quit after two days- the pit in my stomach was screaming loudly “This is not for you!” I felt badly because my former boss had recommended me. I also wanted to have more flexibility re my work schedule so I could be with my two young toddlers more. I was embarrassed at the time, but it’s become a good story over the years. I encourage quitting if one has the means to - quitting inauthentic or unreasonable jobs; quitting books that are boring; quitting a hobby that feels more like punishment than fun. Life is too short. “What will you do with your one wild and precious life?”, as the poet Mary Oliver asks. 🙏❤️
I've quit several jobs on the spot in my lifetime. The one that I still remember well was back in the early 80s. I was quite young, and working in the office of a small manufacturer in TX. The office was okay, but the factory itself was hot as blazes, with no climate control. I wondered why the factory workers put up with it. I asked why there weren't even any fans in the factory area, and was told that "they liked it that way" (the workers). I would find out later.
One of my duties was to prepare the quarterly tax reports. I noticed over the course of several quarters that we received letters apprising us of workers with invalid Social Security numbers. My boss threw them in the trash and told me not to worry about it. Later he brought me a list of new Social Security numbers for the people on the list, saying that it was all a big misunderstanding. I didn't really understand it, but submitted the new numbers in response to the letter. Someone else told me that someone purchased fake social security numbers because the factory workers were "illegals." That's why they couldn't complain about the heat in the summer and the cold in the winter. Not long after I submitted the new Social Security numbers, we received another letter. This one required a sworn, notarized statement with it. There was a notary in the office, and my boss had her come to my desk. At first, she tried to tell me that it would all be fine. I said I would not sign it, and in fact, would not be signing anything to do with the workers Social Security numbers again. Then, it got really ugly. My boss and the notary threatened me with all sorts of stuff, trying to bully me into signing the statement. They told me I would be fired if I didn't sign it. I told them I wasn't working anywhere that required me to tolerate people being treated like animals, much less requiring me to do illegal stuff. I packed my things up and left. The notary ran after me to the parking lot, pleading with me to come back. I never went back. I had no job, and not much money, but I found a better job within a couple of weeks.
I was a school administrator for 17 years. I was working on my doctoral dissertation on administrator burnout and I realized that thinking about smashing my car into a guardrail on the way to work was a) not normal and b) not at all unique. Many admins I interviewed had similar thoughts. We didn’t want to die—we just didn’t want to have to go to work. So I took a $37k pay cut and went back to the classroom. I worked my last 6 years before retirement on a teacher salary. Zero regrets.
Only one job ever, but I'll preface this comment with this: As a federal air traffic controller (retired) I've worked for some tough, unreasonable, self important empire builders, sons of beeches and occasionally incompetent nincompoops and I've been apprenticed with the standard of fear, ridicule and scorn. As one seasoned veteran put it, "There's not much in the world that's worse than training in the FAA and I've been to federal prison." (For his role in the PATCO strike as a national officer.) So that I barely made two weeks in a later job was a bit of an outlier.
I needed some additional cash for a remodel that we were doing out of pocket so I took a job as a personal assistant to a woman that I shall call "Miss Milly". She was a pure mystery to me from the start. Everything was maddening and uncomfortable. From the overstuffed home, every table, desk, and counter overflowing, the constant ordering and returning of hundreds of items, filing and un-filing useless bits of paper that she would never see again (she had 8 huge filing cabinets) and finally the money shuffle to stay afloat.
I went to the bank on my very first day with her complex notes of instructions for the teller and the woman behind the counter said, "Mmmm, mmm, Missy Milly sure does go through the help." That should have been my first clue. After a week of exacting demands, orders barked, critique of every atom of minutiae of my work (That looks pretty good but move the garage 4 inches to the left and that will be perfect...no, no, no move it 6 inches to the right, now paint it, reroof, plant flowers and rake the gravel drive. What took you so long?) and not one single moment of down time.
I finally had enough though when she screamed at me for "over-cooking" her hamburger which was still in my estimation, a bloody E. coli or salmonella infection waiting to happen and at that point I told her that I was done, that no one speaks to me like that and that I'd stay until she found another helper but not one second longer. Her comment to me was, "Well, you were over qualified anyway." LOL!
That was 11 long days. I tend to think that everything has a purpose and she was a powerful example of how NOT to be, particularly when one is dependent on the help of others. There was literally nothing that she could let go. From time to time I remind myself to not be a Miss Milly when in the scheme of things, some unimportant but nagging detail is awry.
I saw her obit a few years ago and I knew that barring a major transformative miracle those 10 or so years had been a misery to herself and to anyone in her sphere. It made me feel sad for her. I'm glad I quit when I did. I found a job working as an estate gardener and that time working by myself, sweating with plants and dirt was what I really needed after that experience.
one of my first jobs in the health care profession would have required me to hand wash the soiled sheets in a nursing home. Nope, I could not bring myself to do that for some reason. Later on, my nursing career did require me to take care of patients who threw up or were incontinent, but somehow that never bothered me. That was probably because it felt more like care taking vs. maid work.
welp, last year I briefly worked for a cargo company as a security screener for clients boarding a private 737 in the AOA Airport Operations Area. I am semi-retired and am a licensed security officer in Hawaii. The job was at the Maui airport. It was an easy duty, wanding and scanning carry-on luggage etc. I don't have to work, I am 70 years old.
At first I was glad to accept the position, but as time got on I soon realized the job was strictly performative and done half assed by co-workers. One co-worker was the kind of person who can't shut-up and used to regale the crew with his graphic experiences of working with hard core criminals at a super-max prison. Perhaps you're aware of that sort of vain -glorious loud mouth with crude manners and an inchoate unsophisticated mind. I wanted to punch him out frankly. Suffice to say, it was sickening, and having a very retentive and educable mind this was so much mental pollution.
But what really chapped my rawhide is that the 737 belonged to a particular millionaire (unnamed) and I never boarded more than eight people at a flight. Now being quite aware of global warming caused climate change, it was a chore for me to hide disdain for such excess off my face.
The plane had more crew than passengers. I found it all to be quite lavish, garish, extravagant and deeply irresponsible if not down right reprehensible. sheesh...
In the summer of 1974, I had just finished my first year teaching kindergarten on a half-time contract, with little hope of becoming full-time. I liked being outdoors, so I decided to sell Avon door to door("Avon calling"). Back then, there weren't home parties in which to ply your trade with wine sangria flowing and cutesy games to ease the anxiety of customers as they wrote their checks for cosmetics. I had to buy my own beginning selling kit and I set off through the neighborhood, naively believing my order pad would soon be filled! Ha! Even back then, women were no longer at home housecleaning, coffee klatching or eating bonbons, waiting to try my cute little lipstick samples. I quit that lonely hot unproductive job within a month. At the end of summer I was offered a full-time teaching contract and never looked back. My public school teaching career spanned 39 challenging but fulfilling years.
Your question is interesting and has gotten some lengthy responses. It made me think about the meaning of work and how it does or doesn’t fit into our lives. I am a retired dance professor in my 70’s and long ago left two very good and interesting jobs before finding an institution where I was finally offered tenure. I know that may sound like a cushy kind of job, but it was physically and intellectually demanding. But I loved my work, teaching, dancing and choreographing. I was so lucky to be allowed to follow the dream I had from the time I was very young. I often wonder about how people work for so many years doing jobs they hate. I also wonder about how so many people seem unable to identify a “fit” for themselves, not really knowing what they like to do. Making a living is important obviously, and the search for work that satisfies both the financial needs AND the desire to do work that feels good is a defining moment for most of us.
It’s lovely someone finds us intriguing! Made me smile again!—-
I’ll try to meet your expectations.😊—-I was 12 and my neighbor’s boss hired me for an assembly line.—-Fold 8x10 letter in thirds, stuff them in an envelope a certain way, seal the envelope and add a stamp.—-1 hour in I was informed I wasn’t meeting my per hour quota.—-3hours in I was cross eyed with boredom… So I decided I would fold all the letters first then stuff all the letters next then seal all the envelopes then add the stamps.—I raised my quota to expectations, BUT the employer objected to my method and made it clear I had to fold, stuff, seal, and stamp one at a time…,I acquiesced and failed my quota… So defeated, I called my father at work and tearfully explained the whole scenario….He immediately left work to pick me up and took me to work with him with no criticism… on three years after slicing lettuce at a Tastee Freeze I successfully landed a position with Mountain Bell Telecom and worked all through High School! Then returned in 1999 to it when it was name US West. I put in 15 years ending with the title Business Analyst resulting from classes I took and other corporate experiences.—-
I feel I owe my future Communications positions to those first few jobs I listed on my application.—-
Maybe this will be intriguing? During my initial job at Mountain Bell I was a Long Distance Operator ( yes with the long plugs!)— And March 1951 Adolf Coors son was kidnapped and I along with others was assigned to sit with an FBI agent all day while they placed calls all around the country!—My stomach was tense but I was proud to have been selected and although it was very very sad for the family - I was very interested in the entire process.—Joseph Corbett was located in 1961.— During the trial, the FBI offered 23 agents, five lab examiners, and a fingerprint expert to help put forward an iron-clad case.
—-And I was still working as a Long Distance operator while in High School.
If you Google it, it a very interesting story.
Thank you Stephen. This was good to share.
As soon as Tax Season is over, I plan to subscribe as your writing is critical, motivating, inspirational, & peppered with humor at times, which we all need.
I was hired to telemarket at a well known charity. The first day was a training course where they told us to call only executives at companies and tell them we had been referred by one of their friends. Since we had not actually been referred, I quit on the spot. I have too much integrity to lie, especially for someone else.
My father taught me “never leave a job without another lined up”. I worked in the wire transfer department at a bank. Late 70s. After a year, I received an “excellent” performance evaluation and received a 10 cents an hour raise! Immediately interviewed for transcription job at the Medical Examiner’s office. Got the job and gave the bank notice. Stayed at the ME office for three years, continually being sexually harassed by the office manager. Quit that job when the county attorney told me that if I reported the harassment I’d be fired.
I've always had another job or plan, but the new job or plan was always motivated in part by the need to get out of a situation that was less than ideal. I graduated from college during the Reagan induced recession). So there weren't many jobs around. I was hired to work in an independent cheese store. The manager left, a new one came on, then he left and then despite me not having a business degree (Sociology) I ended up as the manager. I got paid less because I didn't have the business degree. It was so little I couldn't afford a car and barely could afford my apartment. It was motivation to go to graduate school. I was happy to give my notice. The owner said that I did better financially for his store than any other manager but that he should have paid me less (I made under $10.00 an hour) so that I would feel rewarded by raises. Sheesh. I still can't get the memory of the smell of shrink wrap, or the visual of the canned ham I had to slice and put in trays for sale.
I stayed in jobs I should have quit, decisions that always ended badly. I’ve often wondered why I failed to stand up for myself, since I didn’t lack courage to stand up to bosses in general. Reading these stories today, I recall an early memory of my mom. She was an experienced journalist on a small town newspaper. She quit one day when she discovered her just-out-of-college trainee (male) was making more than she was. She challenges her boss who said she had a husband to support the family so she didn’t need it. She quit on the spot. I remember being very proud of her. But then, she couldn’t find another job and she spent the next decade or more in deep depression and unable to leave the house. It affected all of us, permanently. I think I internalised her struggles as a cautionary tale for myself. My older sister, too. What a difference it would have made to our lives if she (and we) had received counselling to navigate that experience.
I quit a job I loved in my hometown to follow my future husband to graduate school in a distant state. Not a risk taker by nature, I took this dramatic step not knowing where I would land. The job market for my skills were not great in our new location, so I too pursued a graduate degree. Five years later, with two children and a PhD in hand, I returned to my former workplace in a much higher position. I was fortunate to work with a phenomenal team of clinical scientists, all dedicated to our local nonprofit’s mission of providing exceptional patient care. After 30 years I retired, proud of the differences we made in people’s lives, but also saddened to witness the erosion of our local nonprofit’s culture in this era of “corporatization”.
Does quitting being a wife count? Gave up advancing my own career possibilities to ensure his. Three companies, 11 moves, each place, I would call airlines to see price for me and child, children to go home to parents. Divorce day the happiest day of my life. Think I only liked him because he always bought me a Dairy Queen- I was 16 and dumb when met. 7 years older. I told my daughters they were not allowed to get married until they were at least 27 and knew who they were, and the guy had to be tall !! They listened. Children have orders to never put the name Newhouse on my tombstone !
I've left most of my jobs amicably based on a change in circumstance (having a child, making a major move for my partner's job, etc).
I handed in a fuming resignation to a job in retail management after the company made a series of decision making blunders that made my job less and less feasible with the resources we were given.
I had reached record metrics for the department I took over, AND identified and documented supply chain issues that if addressed would greatly improve store level product availability and department shrink quotas... which impressed both district & regional level managers who wanted to fast track me into a higher leadership program.
Within about two months of that the store manager I worked under claimed he could only give ONE person in the entire store more than the normal baseline annual raise and I wasn't the one chosen.
I work hard. I always give my best. I enjoy trying to figure out smarter and better ways to do things.
But I could see no sense in staying in a situation where I was constantly expected to do more with less, and there was no appreciation or reward for doing it. And I certainly didn't think being just ONE person, one rung farther up the ladder of leadership was going to change the entire dysfunctional culture of the company.
I worked at a state prison for 89 days. I loved my job and got better and better every single day, I took my assignment seriously but did not fit in because the majority of my co-workers were institutionalized themselves, more likely to break the rules and start trouble than the inmates. Had there been an uprising, I would have been safer with the inmates. The person training me tried to set me up for discrimination (she was an older, gay, Black woman...pick one). I was called a "snitch" because someone from the top busted the boss for allowing people to take time off without charging it, something I had nothing to do with. Ganged up on, endured rumors, intimidation and outright hostility. I was ultimately fired for cussing and not getting approval for a sick day. It's probably a blessing that I didn't stay on, I'd be just as jaded as those folks were if I had. I planned to write a screenplay about it though, so many juicy characters and a story line that would be at least two seasons long.
Was asked to resign, and when I didn't, they came up with a bogus reason to fire me.
The Physician-Patient Relationship that exists in life is a daily series of advances and retreats, intimate victories and private defeats, all measured not by grand events but by an awareness of the obstacles that have been overcome along the way.
"Does the Doctor/Physician-Patient Relationship Still Exist in 21st-Century Medicine?"-
“The Devoted Doctor “ by the Bedside of a Sick Child from a 19th-Century Oil Painting
A Symbol of Professional Devotion of Physicians to his/her patients remains a true standard in the 21st Century, inspiring past, current, and future physicians devoted to the care, health, and well-being of their sick/ailing patients.
"No One Cares About Providing American Senior Citizens Health in 21st Century America"
No One Seems to Care nor Demonstrate Any Interest in Maintaining the Traditional "Physician-Patient Relationship." which was the Bedrock of Medicine in 20th Century America.
I wrote the Attached in Honor/Love of My Father, Dr. Aaron Weintraub. D.O. in NYC who loved practicing medicine by treating his patients on a one-to-one basis.
My Dad was referred to as "Dr A"/ Dr. Aaron by many of his patients and was a "solo practitioner" in his own individual Doctor's Office from 1940- to his death in -1985[45 Years] My Dad Died Carrying his Black Medical Bag to his office.
Few sole/solo/small [ 5-10 Physician] medical practices are left in America in the 21st Century. 21st American Medicine lacks the "Human Touch" needed in the treatment ,care and wellness of individual patients as "Rel Persons"
We cannot turn back the Clock. However, the Status of Modern Medicine in the 21st Century "Lacks Soul" in the care/treatment of Patients. Each individual's "Patient Care should still be the cornerstone of Modern Medicine. Traditionally, a physician's care, treatment, compassion, sympathy, etc., for his/her patients was the centerpiece in the healing and wellness treatment of patients.
I kept it simple by resigning when I want and work again when I want as well. I worked in IT as sofware engineer/translator & systems analyst as independent contractor. I loved the freedom to decide which contract I wanted and to set or negotiate my own rate, but more importantly, it gave me the freedom to take either longer, shorter or no time off between contracts as I wished without having to explain my absence to anyone. I loved the freedom, remunerations were great, moving around so much gave me the opportunity to meet different teams to work with & in different environments and languages, overall, it was a perfect fit for me. I retired from IT having invested well during my working years, but I am still involved in translations. That is my story!😀
1967: Quit a job as a room service food/drink order-taker at the Santa Barbara Biltmore; working evenings….I was just 18 & knew nothing about “fine dining”, so had to have the patrons spell the names of wine for me after asking if it was a red or white (how the order menu was set up)—working at night did not suit this newly married gal. Then, 1968, picking crab at the waterfront in Eureka after moving north with my hubby to attend college—was going to night school at the time and students in class could smell the “fishy” odor that clung to me even after showering and changing clothes! Next was field work picking daffodils in Arcata, also 1968…stoop labor was hard on me, being tall…tho I never made more than $1.65 an hour (rather than the more lucrative “by the bunch” payment)… I was too slow, but my work was held up at the “way to pick bunches”…back pain finally did me in. Landed a job at the college on Federal Work Study @ the Fin Aid Office in early 1969 while a student & ended up on staff & retired 12/31/2008 after 40 years….a real right livelihood & am still good friends with co-workers, also long retired. Post retirement & needing income before I could collect SS, I started a one-person business I called “Handy-‘mam” and did office cleaning, house cleaning, gardening, landscape design/install for about 3-4 years, but finally gave it up cuz I work HARD & attention to detail (the Virgo in me!) and ended up in physical therapy each year. Now I just pretty much do the same thing, but for me & my house/garden (I have often opined that I need a “handyman-in-a-closet” to call on when I need help ‘round here!). Oh, in high school I worked part-time (school allowed it for good students to spend part of their days on a “job/apprenticeship”) as a dental assistant…that ended abruptly when I’d fainted when the dentist was extracting a tooth from a young lady who couldn’t do Novocain….I held her hand and she squeezed it so hard, I “felt”her pain and fear….I came to on the floor (totally understanding the dentist needed to attend to the patent, not to me, first)—-medical/dental turned out NOT to be my path!!!! These are the penny ante type jobs before I found my “place” where I worked as a public servant for 40 years…count myself VERY lucky!
I once quit a job before actually starting. I had been writing copy on various women’s and home design magazines in NYC, but when starting a family, I wanted to be closer to home in NJ. I took my portfolio and interviewed for a position writing copy for a company that put out various sales catalogs. I wanted this job, so in my reckoning I put aside the fact that the owner of the company subtly devalued my experience in order to reduce the agreed upon salary. He also commented on my appearance in a way that made me uncomfortable. Yet I accepted. A day or two before I was supposed to start, the office called to say to arrive an hour early or come a day early for an hour or two to fill out all the forms on my own time. That was it. I called the morning I was supposed to start and told him I was giving his job a miss because I felt I could do a lot better. It was a great feeling. He was angry. I was relieved to have dodged what was inevitably a bad place to work.
I was a travel RN during ‘09 - ‘15. I lived and worked in six states. I had to wait 3 months to receive my California license, but I was so excited to get there, as I have friends and cousins there.
Many hospitals consider travel RNs as temp workers. We usually get a 13 week assignment. There was a hospital in Sonoma County - which I will not name - that treated us terribly. I worked the 12 hour night shift, 7pm - 7am. The manager scheduled me to work 4 nights in a row, which is hard on the circadian rhythms even when you’re a regular employee. The 4th night, they wanted me to float to another unit. I was exhausted, I didn’t know the Doctors in that unit, I didn’t know the room numbers, I didn’t know where to hang my jacket, where to put my lunch. I had not been oriented to that unit. I called the night supervisor and told her I couldn’t do it, it would potentially compromise patient safety. She was very angry with me. I had two weeks left on that assignment, so I left. Walked out, never looked back, and I found another assignment in the East Bay, which was wonderful.
I have used my masters degrees in biostatistics (MPH) and writing (MFA) to access many different jobs. I am 60 years old and have held positions as a systems analyst, program developer, research scientist, law firm practice support professional, civil/human rights specialist, and community public affairs journalist (radio and print).
I have had plenty of jobs where the environment and the corporate ethic was more than just one that followed the law but that embraced folks in a humane way.
I have had a few where that was not the case. Always. And I mean always, I have left them. Not always wise in terms of having income, but wise in terms of keeping my sanity and dignity.
***
My approach to when to leave a job is half informed by self-confidence but also informed by an ethos that runs in my family related to their history under Jim Crowism and the stories shared within my family about work for White folk amongst my parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents, grand uncles and aunts, and the like.
I can best relate that ethos by sharing the following.
***
I grew up in poverty.
On welfare.
Mostly I was raised by my mother after my father really didn’t want to raise six kids. He took two. My mother took four and raised them after giving birth to her sixth and finding my dad in bed with another woman. My dad is not a bad person. Not by a long shot. My mom died 20 years ago. Her mother and ancestors hail from North Carolina. My dad is alive and kicking at 82 years old. His mother and ancestors hail from Georgia. I love him.
My father is a good man, but, he was a man in the past who thought more often than not with the head below his waist than the one atop his shoulders. Plus, he had to walk a difficult path with my mom who was bipolar. Though divorced, he was there for her—not always but still, some days—in very empathetic ways.
I was raised Catholic, and neither my mother nor father had yet reached 26 before their sixth child was born. My dad wanted out. Separation came in 1969. Divorce after that. My dad remarried and took the two youngest. He and my mother found foster homes and group homes for the four eldest. Spent my life there before returning to my mom in a single parent household—a household that my dad supported in only one way, namely paying $35 month tuition per child at Catholic schools.
My mom did the rest.
On welfare.
***
This is a long prelude to explain that all my closest relatives are maternal. I guess that’s what I really wanted to say.
And my sensibilities, my politics, my ethos in life, comes from my mother and her mother, my grandma Pearline, who on many days took care of us when my mom, bipolar, had those days where she was too far gone to be present if you know what I mean.
My grandmother was born barely more than 50 years after slavery ended. This means my mother grew up having just escaped Jim Crow laws in the South and was “lucky enough” to be born in New York City. But, “Up-North”—as some Black people call it due to New York’s different brand of, shall we say, oppression—provided no one of my mother’s generation respite from being disrespected at worth.
***
I once had a conversation with someone about my decision to leave two years ago a law firm I had been with for nearly two decades (17 years), due largely to the ineffective response by the largely White partnership to bullying/targeting I experienced by a Black supervisor speciously charging racism by Human Resources as a hedge to keep her job abusing all folks emotionally (including Black folk like me).
I suspect that she suspected that a risk averse law firm, largely led by progressive Whites, would not stand up to her because she could take her charges, however specious, and embarrass them publicly.
***
Just to be clear, since I don't want people who are not Black and who are reading this to presume the worst, as folks sometimes do, about "ALL" Black people.
Most Black folk (I am one) still believe they are perceiving racism even though that may or may not be the intent of the person they perceive it coming from.
No one should doubt my supervisor perceived racism, or at least wanted desperately to believe that was the case. She was not a person who tended to be self-reflective and believe she could be wrong. That's the nicest way I can put it.
***
But...
In truth—and even if one were to give her the benefit of the doubt—what she may have perceived simply was not there.
The department where I worked was more than 50% people of color and the department head—who himself was African American—tried six times to fire her. His considered attempts were overturned each time by the overwhelmingly White partnership of the Top 100 American Lawyer international law firm where I worked.
What's more, no Black co-worker I knew of believed the charges of racism my supervisor lodged against her White co-workers (four of them in total). She charged it once against one of her African American subordinates who would not join in her complaint to Human Resources about a fellow White co-worker. She alleged her subordinate, a Black woman older than she, was unable to see racism as well as she could. Yes dear reader, I roll my eyes too.
***
You see the pattern? I suspect her perceptions became a way, consciously or unconsciously to avoid responsibility for bullying and emotionally abusive behavior. It was the fastest, easiest, and most readily available tact to take to keep from being fired.
My supervisor suspected, correctly, her employer would choose to tread water and tolerate her bullying even though it affected in deeply deleterious ways those in her charge.
My apologies for this very long aside, but there may be folks (however few, dear reader) inclined to suspect most Black folk perceive racism where it may not exist.
No doubt what we perceive at times may not be true. No doubt that sometimes when true, racism may not be the intent. Alas, intent or lack of it is no excuse. Just had to be clear here about this, so folks understand where I am coming from.
***
Now, back to my friend who wondered why I was so willing to leave a position that I had been at for nearly 20 years due solely to one person who was, and I am being kind here, an unrepentant jerk.
I told him the story of my Grandma Pearline and juxtaposed it against the story of my mother. Both worked as domestics but had vastly different experiences.
My mother’s experience was wonderful. She became close friends with her employer (a White Jewish woman who could have been her great grandmother), and she was left a five-figure monetary gift in her employer’s will.
One day, grandma Pearline was called a “n*gger” as she was being asked why she had arrived less than an hour late for her job as a domestic. She let it pass and went straight to her ironing duties.
Now my grandmother was very world weary, and, she, of course, had heard this word more than once from her employer, a White woman not that much older than she, but the context for her lateness?
She had to take one of her kids, ill with the pneumonia, to see a doctor.
After she explained that, the woman called her a “n*gger” again, and said she was never ever again to show up late. With control and intention, she picked up the iron, hit the woman in the head with it. And left. She was arrested and served time. She told me that every single bit of what happened in response was worth it. Even the jail time.
***
It's hard to explain but many Black folk are taught employment is worth less than our dignity and the right to self-respect. That certainly is what I was taught. This was *THE* lesson taught me by both my grandmother and my mother.
I take unusual risks, many related to principle and what I feel. That's risky and not necessarily prudent in some folks’ eyes, but it's how I have always lived my life. On some level, it's baked into me. That's how I explain it to those who think me foolhardy.
I grew up African descendant and queer (married for 23 years to a White man I love, who is the best spouse one could have).
Too, I grew up in a politically astute family—politically astute in terms of their humanity and response to racism not politically active in electoral politics—whose members always faced oppression either due to their class status, race, gender, sexual orientation, etc.
Essentially, I grew up in a family where to a person, we were not afraid to end employment based on a stance that had to do with preserving your self-respect and humanity.
Almost everyone in my family amongst my mother's generation was fired for—or quit a job after—taking a stance because they could not abide being mistreated or otherwise forced not to live their humanity.
On some level, that humanity—the politic of humanity is perhaps a more apt phrase—is more important than continuous employment because, in my family, my mother, my grandmother, my brothers and sisters have always found a way to survive.
***
So many Black folk are raised to suspect that perceptions of racism and slights are always real and if you perceive that, you fight with every breath to help people in power respect you as a human being.
In other words, you can find self-respect in other places than your job, and when you don’t have it in your job, demand it, and if after you demand it, things remain the same, then move on, hopefully with your dignity intact.
That is a tenet in so many African American households. Move on when people don't have the countenance to respect stands you take to protect your politic of humanity. Your personhood and dignity is worth more than a job. That's the best way I can explain it.
I quit a computer repair job in 1982 when I inadvertently found out that I was training a man with absolutely no experience in electronics (I'd had 10 years of experience in the field at that point) who was making the same pay as me.
When I confronted the business owner, she said that she couldn't afford to pay me more. I replied that I therefore couldn't afford to work for her, and promptly left that afternoon. I'd had good client feedback, showed up for work every day, and knew my job; she had no complaints about my performance.
I did freelance software development for a year when the owner called me because she needed an experienced technician and couldn't find one. I negotiated a fair wage and decent benefits, and returned to that job. A couple of years later, I started my own repair business and liked being my own boss much better than working for someone else. It took a leap of faith with both changes, but it ultimately worked out.
I decided to return to school at 35, as my self-employment schedule allowed me to do this, and graduated with a doctorate at 43. It's never too late to try something new!
The first summer after high school graduation a friend got me a job in a factory sewing garments. At 8: am a bell sounded all the machines turned on. All day stacks arrived on my right side, I'd pick up a garment, buzz, pass it to my left. At ten the bell. At 10:10 the bell. At 12: the bell. At 1: the bell, and so the days went. I was a machine, not allowed anything but the oil of a check every two weeks. I lasted one month until I quit. The hardest job I ever had required nothing but me sitting pushing a foot peddle. But, I developed empathy for those stuck in these jobs.
1973, I was 20 years old. One day I learned that a man hired after me, that I had been asked to train, was making more money than me. When I asked my boss about it he told me, “he has a family to support”. My response was, so do I, I need to be paid an equitable wage.
While I was waiting for a response to my request for an equitable wage one of our customers expressed dissatisfaction with the work we had done for them. I was asked to go to their office the next day and correct the problem. “Oh, and, why don’t you were your blue dress?”
I quit right that minute.
For over a year I'd been working at a golf course grill at a resort near a small town in Texas; I lived about 15 miles away. Things were going fine with the job until the manager slipped and cracked her kneecap, so I had to do much of her job as well as mine, with no raise. I was just hoping she'd eventually be back once she'd recovered from surgery. On top of that, the place had just been bought by an arrogant oilman who'd never worked in the restaurant business at all before but just assumed that it'd be easy since he went out to eat a lot. Seriously, he actually said that! One of our other workers had quit so the new owner hired a new worker who also had zero experience in the field, a very privileged fratboy-type who probably never worked anywhere before as far as I knew, but his father played golf with the owner and went hunting with him, so junior got the gig. His first day at work, instead of being there at 7am to open with me, he didn't show up, just left me high and dry with a golf tournament full of hungry and thirsty golfers in a hurry to make their tee times. I took care of everything by myself; I took the orders, made the drinks, cooked and served the food, bussed the tables, washed the dishes, etc. People had to wait longer than they'd expected and there was nothing I could do about it but just hustle like crazy.
FINALLY, around noon, after a particularly frantic few hours working alone in a job that usually had three workers, junior stumbled in with no apology for his tardiness, just some vague grumbling about how he was too hungover to be expected get there so early.
I told him I had to grab something from my truck. I grabbed my purse and keys and my tips from the tip jar, hopped into my truck, drove off and never looked back. I didn't formally quit, I was just DONE with that place so I baled. This was in the early 1990s before cell phones so nobody could reach me, which was perfect as far as I was concerned.
I think I've only ever left one job. I've suffered layoffs, and businesses relocating, but the one I quit was as a canvasser/field manager for an environmental lobby called Clean Water Action Project. Fortunately I no bad experiences to relate concerning my time there. Fabulous, dedicated co-workers and bosses. Some of the highest quality folks I've ever met. I finally quit from the burn out of 24-7 commitment. Absolutely no regrets for time spent there, or the decision to leave.
The first job I had was one I really couldn't quit -- US Navy Officer. That one lasted for 11 years and then I moved on. Went to law school after that and ended up work for the Air Force working in contract fraud section. I loved the job, had a great bosses, but the work environment was toxic. Thankfully, I was able to combine my military time with my civilian time and retire as soon as I was eligible. It was amazing to compare the two services--so glad my military career was with the Navy! It was all good -- like your story - it all worked out in the end and I never looked back.
Of the few positions where I have quit, they all boil down to weaponized incompetence being tolerated and rewarded (while others who are amazing workers are continuously shat upon) and/or due to demeaning, out of touch leadership - with a touch of fiscal irresponsibility sprinkled in.
I'm at a point in my life where I refuse to deal with either. It's not worth it and I *am* worthy of more.
The summer after my freshman year of college I got a job as a hostess at a chain burger joint in my hometown. The hostess stand included a case for donuts that were delivered daily. One morning, the store manager dropped the entire box of donuts on the floor of the kitchen and told me to pick them all up and put the less damaged ones in the front case. I hadn’t taken a food safety class, but I knew this was hygienically and morally wrong and quit on the spot. A few days later, I got a job at Knott’s Berry Farm, the So Cal amusement park. I spent three fun summers working there, and never set foot in the lousy burger place again.
Years ago I worked as a reporter for an independent chain of newspapers in a Philly suburb. I was covering a major murder trial for one of the papers (this trial engendered four books or five books and TV ovie). My editor at the second paper was very jealous that I was covering this, so she would bring me back on the in-between days to write headlines and cover what I considered “small stories” about pets getting into sewers, etc. Another (female) reporter in the newsroom was also the object of her wrath and ended up leaving. Finally, I went to the editor in chief and told him I just wanted to work for the one local paper (which necessitated looking for additional work). I told him why. He asked me if I could reason with my editor because we’d been friendly at one point. I told him I didn’t want to be around her, the environment was getting toxic and I was suffering a lot of anxiety as a result. This decision was risky, but it forced me to approach every other publication in town. In time, I started to freelance for magazines. I never regretted my decision.
I live in California and as a college student in the 80’s I was willing to do anything. I once took a landscaping job as a worker. I worked one day and didn’t even go back to collect my paycheck. The way the ‘boss’ treated the laborers was horrendous and mean. He used racist language and constantly belittled the other workers. As the only fluent English speaker other than the leads, I couldn’t take it. To me, the lessons I learned as a young Latino man living in Southern California and the way immigrants were treated was more than any paycheck I could have taken. I was afraid of my own behavior if I ever saw that labor boss again.
I have been working full time since 1978. I've had about a dozen jobs, always in small companies. I quit all of them, except one. In 1979 I was late to my shift as a front desk clerk at a hotel in Monterey, CA. My boyfriend had a paranoid episode & kidnapped me the night before. My boss apparently didn't believe me and I was let go. I really do hope things have changed for young women these days.
I was a young associate lawyer at a New Jersey law firm. After three years I was told there was no partnership in the foreseeable future. I quit right on the spot though I had no other position lined up and hadn’t even look for one. (Within a week I had several job offers).
I moved about 80 miles from my home to take on the leadership role for a helping nonprofit that was located in a medium sized city. I came from a much less populated area and thought I needed to see what I could accomplish in a more urban environment. That a shock! The nonprofit environment was fiercely competitive and I was not at all prepared for people who were oriented toward power and scarcity thinking. I came from an area that never had enough to go around but we addressed community needs through collaboration and non-duplication of services.
I quickly realized that I did not want to make the changes necessary to be successful in a cut throat and aggressive environment. I got the org reoriented in the direction the board's new strategic plan all the while developing an exit plan for myself. I lasted an exhausting two years then returned to the area where I had grown up professionally. Those trusting collaborative relationships benefitted me by easing my reentry into a more satisfying professional life. I love a lot about the city where I lived and learned some important lessons about my personal/professional strengths and weaknesses.
I quit after winning one of the largest contracts in a Fortune 500 company's history. When I told my boss he responded that he had just sent out an email to the corporate executives commending me for the win. Of course I was not copied and didn't know anything about it since he never said anything nice to me. I just said thanks and handed him a miniature bottle of Maker's Mark bourbon and told him he may want to drink it. This was a boss who previously told me to stick my hand in a bucket of water and pull it out to see what impression I made. Also, the cemetery is full of people who thought they were irreplaceable. Believe me, I would not have quit this great company if he had shown any respect to me. Life is too short to put up with nonsense.
I didn't quit per say, but have instead made two internal transfers in my company doing the same work for different segments of the company. I'd been promised work more in line with what I was interested in doing and capable of handling, but the work never came and the promises were never kept by two different supervisors. Consequently I had to leave those positions in order to advance my own skills and promote myself. I haven't burned bridges upon leaving and I don't regret the decision to leave those jobs. Due to personal circumstances I'm actually trying to move back to my previous job even tho I know I won't be content in the long run. I'm envious of the job hoppers that are confident enough to be able to do that and improve their situation. I wish I was.
Before I got my degree and worked as a professional, I quit many jobs (as most younger people toiling in low-wage jobs do). After I obtained my degree and began work as a professional, I didn’t quit a job until nearly 15 years later. I was hired as an environmental professional for a forest products company - its first environmental professional. I immediately conducted an audit of regulatory requirements versus the current state of operations. Holy hell but it was bad! Decades of non-compliance up to and including criminal violations and in my role, I could be the DF (designated felon). I made an appointment with the corporate attorney to present my findings and advised self disclosure to the Oregon DEQ, which recently implemented a program where companies self-disclosing could see penalties reduced by 75%. His response was, “Why would we do that?” I submitted my resignation after a couple more months. The only other job I quickly left was where I was entirely fooled during the interview by the woman who would be my manager. She was ridiculously awful and I was gone in six months.
I once worked as a director in the supply chain side for a large company. My immediate supervisor was someone who had no supply chain experience and had held their position for less that a year when I came on board. I was hired by a Senior VP because of my recognized expertise.
When I was hired, I negotiated time off to attend and to continue presenting papers at supply chain conferences.
The supervisor resented my time away to present at these conferences. Long story short, my supervisor was toxic and insecure. My day to day dealings were not collegial and a great deal of time was spent pointing out how they could do it better. More often than not, their suggestions cost the company money - to the point that the Senior VP directed my supervisor in writing to stop and let me do my job.
Two days before I was scheduled to present a paper at a large regional supply chain conference, the supervisor came into my office and said I could not go, but that they would go in my place and read my paper. The hiring VP was on international travel with the CEO and unavailable. I had no avenue to appeal her decision. I quit on the spot and went to the conference.
By the time I left the conference I had a solid job offer from one company and a proposal to work as a consultant with another firm. Quitting turned out to be one of the best career moves ever.
Left a nonprofit job I was at for nearly 20 years. I was at my ceiling for growth and (probably) compensation, but after all those years I had thought that there might be consideration for intangible benefits along the way. During the pandemic, the staff was told we would not be forced to return to the office, until the day in May 2021 when we were told that everyone was required to return to the office. I put together a proposal to work remotely because surely after all those years they would see my performance, personal needs and work plan, and allow one of their longest tenured employees the option to stay remote.
The request was declined. Four weeks later I submitted my resignation after accepting a new job, where my manager doesn't care about my work environment as long as I get the work done. Imagine that.
I was in my 7th year as a naval supply officer. Was wrapping up a great assignment. Deciding what to do next. A key to my decision was that I had a kidney disease that restricted me to shore duty jobs only ( not ideal in the Navy). A senior Pentagon official advised me to file a medical board (I’d certainly be discharged but retain some health benefits).
I loved what I did, thought through all possible scenarios. I worked alongside a 42 yo LCdr who was retiring but struggling to find a job. I decided it was time to get out.
I filed my medical paperwork. The next day I received an j related call from O4 detailed (I was O3) offering me head supply job at Naval Air Station Brunswick Maine. (As a youth we’d vacationed in Maine every summer. Love the state)
I explained that I had just filed for a medical board. He suggested I pull my request and take the job. I explained when I make a decision, I had looked at all possibilities, and thus do not change my mind.
The next day I got a call from a corporate recruiter and in a month I had a great job offer. That job led me to working around the world, my family living in Germany for 5 years. Definitely the right move.
I worked for several not-for-profit agencies in the 1980s and 1990s, and loved the work. However, one job I was offered as a Director of an agency turned out to be very unpleasant because the prior director stayed on at the head office as a regional director, and made herself the overseer of my small agency. She clearly could not let go of the job I now had. All the other smaller agency offices were overseen by the main office’s Executive Director, so I was the only one under her. Any idea I had for the agency had to go through her, and she would nix the idea before even letting me try it out. Finally, I discovered that I could get the idea accepted if I made her think that the idea was hers. After 18 months of this I had to leave, it was far too stressful. I did not have a job waiting in the wings, so it was scary, but I felt my mental health was more important than money. I did finally get another job with the local town’s housing department, running a new Federal Section 8 program where I was able to help about thirty families (many single mothers) with their successful movement towards owning their own place. The job I left had been one of the most fulfilling jobs I ever had, and I can still feel sad (and even angry) even after all these years, and I am now a 77 year old retiree.
I quit three jobs over my decades-long foray into the workplace. One when I was 14 selling magazine subscriptions over the telephone to numbers dialed at random. We were told "If the person who answers the phone sounds like a "colored person," thank them for answering your questions and hang up. They don't pay." The other was much later in my career working for a well-known university for a person who knew nothing about supervising people. She hardly ever met with me or spoke to me in a four-person office in which I held the second-paid highest job. She communicated by email even though our offices were right next to each other separated by a shared wall. When I quit after a couple of months I informed her via email. The third was a contract museum job. The only thing I can say is that it was a dumpster fire to work there. I don't like quitting jobs. Sometimes, you have no choice. I have been a freelancer for about 20 years now and it is what I have always wanted. No more working for the man.
I worked for a bank in the 1980s while going to, then dropping out of college. I was mad that I didn’t get the lateral role I wanted into IT (I was a supervisor with about 6 years there) and quit to take a job mowing grass during the day and studying coding during the night. Got a job in IT with a goal of learning the business and starting my own. Quit that to start my IT business - today employing 100+ people. Awesome ride.
Life evolves in surprising ways for many of us! Doors open unexpectedly!
I quit a job editing a city newspaper in the South. I have always been a strong newspaper Guild member. I even worked to unionize a newspaper I owned (the reporters were not interested). The owners in the South brought in Union busting lawyers to teach us how to undermine unions. I quit rather than put myself in a position of having to cross a picket line. I never have.
I had a horrible boss at IBM. I basically got myself fired and started my own technology company, which I successfully ran for 30 years, sold and retired at 60. My boss did me a big favor.
I worked my way through college; scholarship and financial aid weren’t enough to enable me to buy books, etc. Somehow I found out about an after hours cleaning job in downtown Minneapolis and figured one doesn’t need a BA to push a mop. The job was 10pm to 3am in a retail lobby area next to a major department store.
Well, this was my first experience cleaning public restrooms and I was surprised to find that the men’s bathroom was much worse than the women’s. There were used condoms in the urinals! (Or at least I assumed that’s what they were, having never seen such a thing before.)
I also found it odd that men were following me around as I swept and mopped and dusted. They would slur things like “Shay baby, where’s the akshun?” I actually responded with various comments like “Do I look like I know anything about action?” Or “I’m just here to clean the toilets.”
Someone finally told me that little lobby was a well-known pickup place for johns to meet hookers. And so, after only three nights, at $1.50/hour, I quit. I suppose I could have made a lot more if I did a different kind of business there.
It was jobs like this that made me know why I needed a degree. After I finished grad school I started a 40+ year career in human services that was more challenging, exciting and rewarding than I could ever have dreamed.
I worked for two days at Legg Mason as a telecommunications analyst. I quit after two days- the pit in my stomach was screaming loudly “This is not for you!” I felt badly because my former boss had recommended me. I also wanted to have more flexibility re my work schedule so I could be with my two young toddlers more. I was embarrassed at the time, but it’s become a good story over the years. I encourage quitting if one has the means to - quitting inauthentic or unreasonable jobs; quitting books that are boring; quitting a hobby that feels more like punishment than fun. Life is too short. “What will you do with your one wild and precious life?”, as the poet Mary Oliver asks. 🙏❤️
I've quit several jobs on the spot in my lifetime. The one that I still remember well was back in the early 80s. I was quite young, and working in the office of a small manufacturer in TX. The office was okay, but the factory itself was hot as blazes, with no climate control. I wondered why the factory workers put up with it. I asked why there weren't even any fans in the factory area, and was told that "they liked it that way" (the workers). I would find out later.
One of my duties was to prepare the quarterly tax reports. I noticed over the course of several quarters that we received letters apprising us of workers with invalid Social Security numbers. My boss threw them in the trash and told me not to worry about it. Later he brought me a list of new Social Security numbers for the people on the list, saying that it was all a big misunderstanding. I didn't really understand it, but submitted the new numbers in response to the letter. Someone else told me that someone purchased fake social security numbers because the factory workers were "illegals." That's why they couldn't complain about the heat in the summer and the cold in the winter. Not long after I submitted the new Social Security numbers, we received another letter. This one required a sworn, notarized statement with it. There was a notary in the office, and my boss had her come to my desk. At first, she tried to tell me that it would all be fine. I said I would not sign it, and in fact, would not be signing anything to do with the workers Social Security numbers again. Then, it got really ugly. My boss and the notary threatened me with all sorts of stuff, trying to bully me into signing the statement. They told me I would be fired if I didn't sign it. I told them I wasn't working anywhere that required me to tolerate people being treated like animals, much less requiring me to do illegal stuff. I packed my things up and left. The notary ran after me to the parking lot, pleading with me to come back. I never went back. I had no job, and not much money, but I found a better job within a couple of weeks.
I was a school administrator for 17 years. I was working on my doctoral dissertation on administrator burnout and I realized that thinking about smashing my car into a guardrail on the way to work was a) not normal and b) not at all unique. Many admins I interviewed had similar thoughts. We didn’t want to die—we just didn’t want to have to go to work. So I took a $37k pay cut and went back to the classroom. I worked my last 6 years before retirement on a teacher salary. Zero regrets.
Only one job ever, but I'll preface this comment with this: As a federal air traffic controller (retired) I've worked for some tough, unreasonable, self important empire builders, sons of beeches and occasionally incompetent nincompoops and I've been apprenticed with the standard of fear, ridicule and scorn. As one seasoned veteran put it, "There's not much in the world that's worse than training in the FAA and I've been to federal prison." (For his role in the PATCO strike as a national officer.) So that I barely made two weeks in a later job was a bit of an outlier.
I needed some additional cash for a remodel that we were doing out of pocket so I took a job as a personal assistant to a woman that I shall call "Miss Milly". She was a pure mystery to me from the start. Everything was maddening and uncomfortable. From the overstuffed home, every table, desk, and counter overflowing, the constant ordering and returning of hundreds of items, filing and un-filing useless bits of paper that she would never see again (she had 8 huge filing cabinets) and finally the money shuffle to stay afloat.
I went to the bank on my very first day with her complex notes of instructions for the teller and the woman behind the counter said, "Mmmm, mmm, Missy Milly sure does go through the help." That should have been my first clue. After a week of exacting demands, orders barked, critique of every atom of minutiae of my work (That looks pretty good but move the garage 4 inches to the left and that will be perfect...no, no, no move it 6 inches to the right, now paint it, reroof, plant flowers and rake the gravel drive. What took you so long?) and not one single moment of down time.
I finally had enough though when she screamed at me for "over-cooking" her hamburger which was still in my estimation, a bloody E. coli or salmonella infection waiting to happen and at that point I told her that I was done, that no one speaks to me like that and that I'd stay until she found another helper but not one second longer. Her comment to me was, "Well, you were over qualified anyway." LOL!
That was 11 long days. I tend to think that everything has a purpose and she was a powerful example of how NOT to be, particularly when one is dependent on the help of others. There was literally nothing that she could let go. From time to time I remind myself to not be a Miss Milly when in the scheme of things, some unimportant but nagging detail is awry.
I saw her obit a few years ago and I knew that barring a major transformative miracle those 10 or so years had been a misery to herself and to anyone in her sphere. It made me feel sad for her. I'm glad I quit when I did. I found a job working as an estate gardener and that time working by myself, sweating with plants and dirt was what I really needed after that experience.
one of my first jobs in the health care profession would have required me to hand wash the soiled sheets in a nursing home. Nope, I could not bring myself to do that for some reason. Later on, my nursing career did require me to take care of patients who threw up or were incontinent, but somehow that never bothered me. That was probably because it felt more like care taking vs. maid work.
welp, last year I briefly worked for a cargo company as a security screener for clients boarding a private 737 in the AOA Airport Operations Area. I am semi-retired and am a licensed security officer in Hawaii. The job was at the Maui airport. It was an easy duty, wanding and scanning carry-on luggage etc. I don't have to work, I am 70 years old.
At first I was glad to accept the position, but as time got on I soon realized the job was strictly performative and done half assed by co-workers. One co-worker was the kind of person who can't shut-up and used to regale the crew with his graphic experiences of working with hard core criminals at a super-max prison. Perhaps you're aware of that sort of vain -glorious loud mouth with crude manners and an inchoate unsophisticated mind. I wanted to punch him out frankly. Suffice to say, it was sickening, and having a very retentive and educable mind this was so much mental pollution.
But what really chapped my rawhide is that the 737 belonged to a particular millionaire (unnamed) and I never boarded more than eight people at a flight. Now being quite aware of global warming caused climate change, it was a chore for me to hide disdain for such excess off my face.
The plane had more crew than passengers. I found it all to be quite lavish, garish, extravagant and deeply irresponsible if not down right reprehensible. sheesh...
So fuck it, I quit. Not suitable to my karma...
yours,
Keith W. Rushing
https://www.icutv.company
In the summer of 1974, I had just finished my first year teaching kindergarten on a half-time contract, with little hope of becoming full-time. I liked being outdoors, so I decided to sell Avon door to door("Avon calling"). Back then, there weren't home parties in which to ply your trade with wine sangria flowing and cutesy games to ease the anxiety of customers as they wrote their checks for cosmetics. I had to buy my own beginning selling kit and I set off through the neighborhood, naively believing my order pad would soon be filled! Ha! Even back then, women were no longer at home housecleaning, coffee klatching or eating bonbons, waiting to try my cute little lipstick samples. I quit that lonely hot unproductive job within a month. At the end of summer I was offered a full-time teaching contract and never looked back. My public school teaching career spanned 39 challenging but fulfilling years.
Your question is interesting and has gotten some lengthy responses. It made me think about the meaning of work and how it does or doesn’t fit into our lives. I am a retired dance professor in my 70’s and long ago left two very good and interesting jobs before finding an institution where I was finally offered tenure. I know that may sound like a cushy kind of job, but it was physically and intellectually demanding. But I loved my work, teaching, dancing and choreographing. I was so lucky to be allowed to follow the dream I had from the time I was very young. I often wonder about how people work for so many years doing jobs they hate. I also wonder about how so many people seem unable to identify a “fit” for themselves, not really knowing what they like to do. Making a living is important obviously, and the search for work that satisfies both the financial needs AND the desire to do work that feels good is a defining moment for most of us.
It’s lovely someone finds us intriguing! Made me smile again!—-
I’ll try to meet your expectations.😊—-I was 12 and my neighbor’s boss hired me for an assembly line.—-Fold 8x10 letter in thirds, stuff them in an envelope a certain way, seal the envelope and add a stamp.—-1 hour in I was informed I wasn’t meeting my per hour quota.—-3hours in I was cross eyed with boredom… So I decided I would fold all the letters first then stuff all the letters next then seal all the envelopes then add the stamps.—I raised my quota to expectations, BUT the employer objected to my method and made it clear I had to fold, stuff, seal, and stamp one at a time…,I acquiesced and failed my quota… So defeated, I called my father at work and tearfully explained the whole scenario….He immediately left work to pick me up and took me to work with him with no criticism… on three years after slicing lettuce at a Tastee Freeze I successfully landed a position with Mountain Bell Telecom and worked all through High School! Then returned in 1999 to it when it was name US West. I put in 15 years ending with the title Business Analyst resulting from classes I took and other corporate experiences.—-
I feel I owe my future Communications positions to those first few jobs I listed on my application.—-
Maybe this will be intriguing? During my initial job at Mountain Bell I was a Long Distance Operator ( yes with the long plugs!)— And March 1951 Adolf Coors son was kidnapped and I along with others was assigned to sit with an FBI agent all day while they placed calls all around the country!—My stomach was tense but I was proud to have been selected and although it was very very sad for the family - I was very interested in the entire process.—Joseph Corbett was located in 1961.— During the trial, the FBI offered 23 agents, five lab examiners, and a fingerprint expert to help put forward an iron-clad case.
—-And I was still working as a Long Distance operator while in High School.
If you Google it, it a very interesting story.
Thank you Stephen. This was good to share.
As soon as Tax Season is over, I plan to subscribe as your writing is critical, motivating, inspirational, & peppered with humor at times, which we all need.
I was hired to telemarket at a well known charity. The first day was a training course where they told us to call only executives at companies and tell them we had been referred by one of their friends. Since we had not actually been referred, I quit on the spot. I have too much integrity to lie, especially for someone else.
My father taught me “never leave a job without another lined up”. I worked in the wire transfer department at a bank. Late 70s. After a year, I received an “excellent” performance evaluation and received a 10 cents an hour raise! Immediately interviewed for transcription job at the Medical Examiner’s office. Got the job and gave the bank notice. Stayed at the ME office for three years, continually being sexually harassed by the office manager. Quit that job when the county attorney told me that if I reported the harassment I’d be fired.
I've always had another job or plan, but the new job or plan was always motivated in part by the need to get out of a situation that was less than ideal. I graduated from college during the Reagan induced recession). So there weren't many jobs around. I was hired to work in an independent cheese store. The manager left, a new one came on, then he left and then despite me not having a business degree (Sociology) I ended up as the manager. I got paid less because I didn't have the business degree. It was so little I couldn't afford a car and barely could afford my apartment. It was motivation to go to graduate school. I was happy to give my notice. The owner said that I did better financially for his store than any other manager but that he should have paid me less (I made under $10.00 an hour) so that I would feel rewarded by raises. Sheesh. I still can't get the memory of the smell of shrink wrap, or the visual of the canned ham I had to slice and put in trays for sale.
I stayed in jobs I should have quit, decisions that always ended badly. I’ve often wondered why I failed to stand up for myself, since I didn’t lack courage to stand up to bosses in general. Reading these stories today, I recall an early memory of my mom. She was an experienced journalist on a small town newspaper. She quit one day when she discovered her just-out-of-college trainee (male) was making more than she was. She challenges her boss who said she had a husband to support the family so she didn’t need it. She quit on the spot. I remember being very proud of her. But then, she couldn’t find another job and she spent the next decade or more in deep depression and unable to leave the house. It affected all of us, permanently. I think I internalised her struggles as a cautionary tale for myself. My older sister, too. What a difference it would have made to our lives if she (and we) had received counselling to navigate that experience.
I quit a job I loved in my hometown to follow my future husband to graduate school in a distant state. Not a risk taker by nature, I took this dramatic step not knowing where I would land. The job market for my skills were not great in our new location, so I too pursued a graduate degree. Five years later, with two children and a PhD in hand, I returned to my former workplace in a much higher position. I was fortunate to work with a phenomenal team of clinical scientists, all dedicated to our local nonprofit’s mission of providing exceptional patient care. After 30 years I retired, proud of the differences we made in people’s lives, but also saddened to witness the erosion of our local nonprofit’s culture in this era of “corporatization”.
Does quitting being a wife count? Gave up advancing my own career possibilities to ensure his. Three companies, 11 moves, each place, I would call airlines to see price for me and child, children to go home to parents. Divorce day the happiest day of my life. Think I only liked him because he always bought me a Dairy Queen- I was 16 and dumb when met. 7 years older. I told my daughters they were not allowed to get married until they were at least 27 and knew who they were, and the guy had to be tall !! They listened. Children have orders to never put the name Newhouse on my tombstone !
I've left most of my jobs amicably based on a change in circumstance (having a child, making a major move for my partner's job, etc).
I handed in a fuming resignation to a job in retail management after the company made a series of decision making blunders that made my job less and less feasible with the resources we were given.
I had reached record metrics for the department I took over, AND identified and documented supply chain issues that if addressed would greatly improve store level product availability and department shrink quotas... which impressed both district & regional level managers who wanted to fast track me into a higher leadership program.
Within about two months of that the store manager I worked under claimed he could only give ONE person in the entire store more than the normal baseline annual raise and I wasn't the one chosen.
I work hard. I always give my best. I enjoy trying to figure out smarter and better ways to do things.
But I could see no sense in staying in a situation where I was constantly expected to do more with less, and there was no appreciation or reward for doing it. And I certainly didn't think being just ONE person, one rung farther up the ladder of leadership was going to change the entire dysfunctional culture of the company.
I worked at a state prison for 89 days. I loved my job and got better and better every single day, I took my assignment seriously but did not fit in because the majority of my co-workers were institutionalized themselves, more likely to break the rules and start trouble than the inmates. Had there been an uprising, I would have been safer with the inmates. The person training me tried to set me up for discrimination (she was an older, gay, Black woman...pick one). I was called a "snitch" because someone from the top busted the boss for allowing people to take time off without charging it, something I had nothing to do with. Ganged up on, endured rumors, intimidation and outright hostility. I was ultimately fired for cussing and not getting approval for a sick day. It's probably a blessing that I didn't stay on, I'd be just as jaded as those folks were if I had. I planned to write a screenplay about it though, so many juicy characters and a story line that would be at least two seasons long.
Was asked to resign, and when I didn't, they came up with a bogus reason to fire me.
The Physician-Patient Relationship that exists in life is a daily series of advances and retreats, intimate victories and private defeats, all measured not by grand events but by an awareness of the obstacles that have been overcome along the way.
"Does the Doctor/Physician-Patient Relationship Still Exist in 21st-Century Medicine?"-
“The Devoted Doctor “ by the Bedside of a Sick Child from a 19th-Century Oil Painting
A Symbol of Professional Devotion of Physicians to his/her patients remains a true standard in the 21st Century, inspiring past, current, and future physicians devoted to the care, health, and well-being of their sick/ailing patients.
"No One Cares About Providing American Senior Citizens Health in 21st Century America"
No One Seems to Care nor Demonstrate Any Interest in Maintaining the Traditional "Physician-Patient Relationship." which was the Bedrock of Medicine in 20th Century America.
I wrote the Attached in Honor/Love of My Father, Dr. Aaron Weintraub. D.O. in NYC who loved practicing medicine by treating his patients on a one-to-one basis.
My Dad was referred to as "Dr A"/ Dr. Aaron by many of his patients and was a "solo practitioner" in his own individual Doctor's Office from 1940- to his death in -1985[45 Years] My Dad Died Carrying his Black Medical Bag to his office.
Few sole/solo/small [ 5-10 Physician] medical practices are left in America in the 21st Century. 21st American Medicine lacks the "Human Touch" needed in the treatment ,care and wellness of individual patients as "Rel Persons"
We cannot turn back the Clock. However, the Status of Modern Medicine in the 21st Century "Lacks Soul" in the care/treatment of Patients. Each individual's "Patient Care should still be the cornerstone of Modern Medicine. Traditionally, a physician's care, treatment, compassion, sympathy, etc., for his/her patients was the centerpiece in the healing and wellness treatment of patients.
"Modern Medicine is Another Big Business"
Richard M. Weintraub Esq.
I kept it simple by resigning when I want and work again when I want as well. I worked in IT as sofware engineer/translator & systems analyst as independent contractor. I loved the freedom to decide which contract I wanted and to set or negotiate my own rate, but more importantly, it gave me the freedom to take either longer, shorter or no time off between contracts as I wished without having to explain my absence to anyone. I loved the freedom, remunerations were great, moving around so much gave me the opportunity to meet different teams to work with & in different environments and languages, overall, it was a perfect fit for me. I retired from IT having invested well during my working years, but I am still involved in translations. That is my story!😀
Sometimes quitting is not an option. I’ve learned more about how to be a good boss from ‘bad’ bosses.
1967: Quit a job as a room service food/drink order-taker at the Santa Barbara Biltmore; working evenings….I was just 18 & knew nothing about “fine dining”, so had to have the patrons spell the names of wine for me after asking if it was a red or white (how the order menu was set up)—working at night did not suit this newly married gal. Then, 1968, picking crab at the waterfront in Eureka after moving north with my hubby to attend college—was going to night school at the time and students in class could smell the “fishy” odor that clung to me even after showering and changing clothes! Next was field work picking daffodils in Arcata, also 1968…stoop labor was hard on me, being tall…tho I never made more than $1.65 an hour (rather than the more lucrative “by the bunch” payment)… I was too slow, but my work was held up at the “way to pick bunches”…back pain finally did me in. Landed a job at the college on Federal Work Study @ the Fin Aid Office in early 1969 while a student & ended up on staff & retired 12/31/2008 after 40 years….a real right livelihood & am still good friends with co-workers, also long retired. Post retirement & needing income before I could collect SS, I started a one-person business I called “Handy-‘mam” and did office cleaning, house cleaning, gardening, landscape design/install for about 3-4 years, but finally gave it up cuz I work HARD & attention to detail (the Virgo in me!) and ended up in physical therapy each year. Now I just pretty much do the same thing, but for me & my house/garden (I have often opined that I need a “handyman-in-a-closet” to call on when I need help ‘round here!). Oh, in high school I worked part-time (school allowed it for good students to spend part of their days on a “job/apprenticeship”) as a dental assistant…that ended abruptly when I’d fainted when the dentist was extracting a tooth from a young lady who couldn’t do Novocain….I held her hand and she squeezed it so hard, I “felt”her pain and fear….I came to on the floor (totally understanding the dentist needed to attend to the patent, not to me, first)—-medical/dental turned out NOT to be my path!!!! These are the penny ante type jobs before I found my “place” where I worked as a public servant for 40 years…count myself VERY lucky!
I once quit a job before actually starting. I had been writing copy on various women’s and home design magazines in NYC, but when starting a family, I wanted to be closer to home in NJ. I took my portfolio and interviewed for a position writing copy for a company that put out various sales catalogs. I wanted this job, so in my reckoning I put aside the fact that the owner of the company subtly devalued my experience in order to reduce the agreed upon salary. He also commented on my appearance in a way that made me uncomfortable. Yet I accepted. A day or two before I was supposed to start, the office called to say to arrive an hour early or come a day early for an hour or two to fill out all the forms on my own time. That was it. I called the morning I was supposed to start and told him I was giving his job a miss because I felt I could do a lot better. It was a great feeling. He was angry. I was relieved to have dodged what was inevitably a bad place to work.