Fuck It!!!


And so, two and a half weeks ago I made what could, should and would have been the most reckless move of my professional life.  I gave into impulse and after that metaphorical, and in this case, literal last stupid question, I packed up my coffee mug, grabbed my calculator and quit my job.  Right there, right then, I walked up to my pseudo-boss and said “I am done”.

Now dealing with stupid people and stupid questions is integral to what I do for a living.  In fact, if a business had no stupid people working there making bad decisions, then there would not be a need for a person such as myself to come in and fix things and get the business running and the shipments flowing.  But come on people, enough is enough.


Up until three weeks ago, I had never quit a job in my life.  Not once, not ever:  not when I was working as a sixteen year old prep cook at a delicatessen (and gaining a love of cooking); not working in retail while I was in college; not even working in manufacturing where quitting is almost a rite of passage.  Now don’t get me wrong, I have been fired (quite rightly too) and I have been laid off.  But never in thirty five years of working hard, day in and day out as a slave to the grind, had I ever just achieved that moment of clarity (and that is really what it was) where it was all summed up by two simple words – “Fuck it!”

It reminded me of how my outdoor soccer career ended.  It ended exactly as the sage of all sages (my father) told me it would.  I would wake up one morning and I would know that I was done.  And he told me it would be something innocuous that would be the catalyst rather than a serious injury or conflict with coaches and/or teammates.

warning labels

In this case, I woke up one Sunday morning in February and it was cold and windy and rainy as only Portland in February can be, and those two magic words sprung to the fore – “Fuck it!”  And just like that, my outdoor career was done.  I no longer had the desire to run around in the rain and snow and wind in order to kick people around, over and into the mud bogs that doubled as “soccer fields” at that time in this area.  I did play indoors for another seven years.

Shakespearean aside now complete, I will get back to the original topic:  two and a half weeks ago, I quit my job at 10:30 am.  I was sick from working long hours; I was worn down from the constant stress of trying to get everybody following the plan, and I was mentally beaten down from working with the certainty that I was wasting my time and my skills on this company.

dont get mad at stupid people - craftsnark

I had tried to give my notice in mid-February, and I even gave them four week’s notice in order for them to adequately replace me.  But after meetings with the owner (who I think is an amazing individual) and the head of HR (who said all of the right things) I agreed to give it twelve weeks.  I made it six weeks.  I should have left after the original four weeks.

But all’s well that ends well.  I have already been working for a week at another company.  My phone started ringing the day after I left and it has not stopped ringing since then.  I am working at another manufacturing company for the next three months and that is everything that I want right now.

thank bp


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