That’s right, you read the title correctly; I quit my job with nothing lined up. I won’t go into details regarding my old employer but suffice it to say that I was growing more and more disillusioned with my job as time wore on. Moreover, the factors causing this had no end in sight. Now, the purpose of this article isn’t to throw shade (I don’t need HR or Legal sharpening their pitchforks); had things been slightly different I would’ve happily stayed. However, we don’t live in the universe of if-only. So, I pulled the ripcord, consequences be damned, and quit my job with nothing lined up. At the risk of sounding like one of the philosopher bachelors that Brett McKay hates so much, I’ll share my experience so far.
I slowly began to realize that my long-term future was not with my then-current employer and had flipped the stealth mode switch on LinkedIn (a LinkedIn feature that I actually love!). As soon as I toggled that feature, I knew I was fully committed to this path; I’m not the type of person to shop around casually. Once I’ve reached that mental mile-marker, there was no going back. It helped immensely that I was prepared for a potentially lengthy unemployment. The job market in my line of work (that is, my non-writing career path!) is still heavily candidate driven. I paid off all of my debt years ago (a story for a future article). I’m also healthy and have no chronic health issues or need for medications, so the loss of health insurance is less of a deterrent (disclaimer: those without such good fortune should probably not follow in my footsteps). Lastly, thanks to an upbringing in which disposable income was scarce, I developed a tendency towards hoarding for a rainy-day. That, combined with my hobbies being pretty accessible, meant that I could afford the luxury of YOLOing myself out of a job.
One fateful Monday night (I work the night shift), my boss called me for a routine status update. Her and I have always gotten along well, which didn’t make this any easier. After all, most people leave bosses, not jobs though that wasn’t the case here. I decided the best way to deliver the news was to not prolong the discussion and to just rip the metaphorical band-aid off. After declaring Friday is my last day, the call remained cordial though concise.
After the call, a feeling of utter panic washed over me. While I’m not normally one who gives in to anxiety, the uncertainty in that moment, and for the next 90 minutes, gripped hard. My breathing shallowed, my heart rate ticked upwards, and my blood pressure rose considerably. My mind started to race doomsday thoughts; What did I just do? and I can’t go back from this, along with a lot of irrational What Ifs. My hands started visibly shaking and I was on edge for the remainder of that shift, as if I were walking on eggshells. 10 minutes into my drive home that night the nerves had finally died down to a manageable level; at twenty minutes into the hour-long commute, the apprehension disappeared entirely and was replaced by joy. I went to bed that night in a significantly calmer state than I was a few hours prior.
The rest of the week invoked more of a relaxed, borderline Zen state. I had delivered my official written letter (which I crafted beforehand but forgot to bring the day prior, like a goober!). My letter stated why I was leaving, though I declined to answer questions regarding my immediate future. I spent the next few days saying my goodbyes and telling stories of back in the day, maaaan (even though I’m not normally nostalgic). Friday came, it was a light day made even lighter by the fact much of my access had been cut off early on in my shift. I had left the parking lot for the final time, a much milder version of the panic sensation returned, though this time it left as quickly as it came. As of midnight, I would be officially unemployed for the first time in ages.
I won’t lie, the first two weeks of my voluntary unemployment felt great. It was like a vacation; one I hadn’t had since Eastern Europe nearly eight months prior. I spent my time finishing my second book and getting a few Rocky III-style outdoor workouts in (minus having Carl Weathers as a hype man!). The sun, breeze and grass all felt amazing; as a perennial night shift employee, it is usually difficult for me to enjoy such basic pleasures such as these. I made sure to reflect on how happy I was in that moment, to be alive, to experience this level of serenity (stop and smell the roses cliché!). I casually enjoyed some classic video games as well on my trusty PS1 as well (I know, I know: I relapsed). I went with one of my best friends, a fellow night-shifter, to some museums during the first two weeks as well.
I’ve entered Week 3 of my self-induced joblessness, and I’ve taken to my job hunt with a little more zeal. I do not qualify for unemployment benefits since I voluntarily quit, besides I wouldn’t accept it anyways because I feel that is socialism (I returned my first two COVID stimulus checks back in 2020, but that’s for a future article). The taxpayer shouldn’t foot the bill for my lack of fulfillment. I still need to remind myself of how fortunate I am to be in this position; of not having to take the first available job or needing to make any sudden decisions. Money may or may not buy happiness, but it certainly buys some breathing room and some freedom in this context. As an aside, show me one person with no freedom or wiggle room that is genuinely happy; go ahead, I’ll wait.
Life is too short to hold onto a job for dear life if you don’t absolutely need to.
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