Quitting
"Most people who succeed in the face of seemingly impossible conditions are people who simply don't know how to quit." Robert Schuller"If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. Then quit. There's no use being a damn fool about it." W. C. Fields
"A man is not finished when he's defeated; he's finished when he quits." Richard Nixon
I almost quit my job this week - well, I actually did - verbally that is. I stayed home from work on Monday of this week, and contemplated my navel, and washed and chopped vegetables for the South Beach Diet we just started (fodder for another blog, I'm sure). I did no job-related work on Monday at home, despite having toted vast amounts of it home in a tote bag. Tuesday morning I was up at 5 am, and intended to go to the office and get work done before the boss came in. But as I checked e-mail I realized I would never finish everything in the hour or so extra I had given myself. I sat in my chair, sweaty and shaking and nauseus. Megan IMed me, and I cut the conversation short. I then packed up my sack of work, and went back home. My husband was shocked to see me, and knew something was wrong. I'd been crying about work off and on for months now, and lamenting about how stupid and worthless I felt. I burst into tears as soon as I stepped into the kitchen. Michael hugged me and told me it would all be OK, and to go back to bed, then call work when I felt like I could, and that I could quit if I wanted to.
I tried to go back to bed, but instead I found my immediate supervisor's phone number and called her. I told her that I thought it was time for me to resign, and that I would give them as much notice as they needed, and that I was sorry it had not worked out. She asked if I was OK - she's a mother of two as well as a PhD and JD - so she has an amazing way of cranking out the work while being sensitive to the needs and feelings of others. I said I was, but I had already started to cry again. We talked for a while, and she agreed to talk to her boss (and mine) who is the director. We agreed to talk on Wed. with the director.
The meeting went as good as could be expected. I was able to calmly articulate my perspectives, they listened and offered honest timelines for when I might expect my job responsibilities to shift. In sum, my director said she liked me and didn't want me to quit, and advised me that quitting wouldn't look good for my vitae anyway. I thought to myself, "I don't suppose time in a mental institution would look too hot either." But I bit my tongue. I agreed to stay and see how things looked by the end of the year. By that point, I will have worked here one year - not long by any standard (except that of my ex-husband, who held 10 jobs in 9 years of marriage), but long enough to see honestly how I am living with the place and the work. My director urged me to tell her if I still wanted to leave, and if that was still the case, that she would write me letters of recommendation and even help me find another more suitable position. She did not sugar-coat, but she was kind. I agreed to stick it out through the accreditation process. Our human subjects protection program here is up for accreditation, and our initial application goes in on July 1. Less than 3 months of what will likely be a crazy time here at work filled with fretting and frustration and working as fast as we can on certian things. And here I blog...
I hate the idea that I might me a quitter in lots of areas of my life. I think about all the things that I have started over the years, and not finished. I have taken piano, guitar, and clarinet lessons, yet to this day I cannot play the piano or guitar, and would probably sound like a dying duck if I attempted the clarinet (that I still own). I have taken dance lessons as a kid, and am about as uncoordinated as a 3-legged hippo. I took baton-twirling lessons (which obviously proved quite valuable later in life). I have lost and gained weight so many times from diets I quit before I got much of anywhere. I have gone through phases where I thought I would paint, take up photography, or learn to sew. None of those amounted to much. I have pages of unpublished research because I fizzled out near the end of the process. I never finished my PhD. I was "all but dissertation" and let my time run out. I am divorced - I quit by choice. I filed. I went to the attorney's office. He agreed it was necessary, but the final decision was mine.
I don't want to be a quitter, but like W. C. Fields said, I don't want to be a damn fool, either. Shouldn't some quitting be a good thing? Isn't it good when we get ourselves out of a bad situation or a bad relationship and say, "You know, I've had enough. I outta here." There have to be some relationships that simply are not worth saving. There must be some jobs that are not worth staying in.
Distinguishing between that which is worth keeping, and that which warrants throwing in the towel is tougher than it seems. Maybe I'm not so much a quitter, but I was smart enough to know I wasn't cut out to play clarinet in the symphony.
posted by No Longer In Crisis @ 4/14/2005 03:26:00 PM
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