Everybody Loves a Quitter

Everybody loves a quitter.

There's something counter-intuitive about that sentence. It goes against everything we're taught and told in life, and all those corny American movies we go to see where lame ducks finally come good cos no matter the odds, they didn't quit.

But I'm not so sure. I have battled on against all odds in some things - studying for degrees, running marathons through a haze of pain, living in a foreign country despite being miserable as sin... And I have quit repeatedly in others - studying for degrees, living in a foreign country where I'm miserable as sin, certain jobs... Part of me has carried around a germ of guilt and shame for being a quitter. But the more I think about it, the less I think that's justified. It's important to choose the things worth quitting and the things worth sticking at. But if the choice is based on something more meaningful than sheer laziness, it's probably the right choice.

And at heart other people think so too. When it's come to quitting jobs, the most common responses I've encountered are... envy, admiration, and excitement. No matter that my quitting leaves those left behind with more work, higher caseloads, and increased aggravation until a replacement is found and trained up. It's important to stress that this is not the same as when you leave a job because you're moving up in the world - for a promotion or a better paid more important job. In those scenarios, you're not quitting. There's no risk, no 'giving it all up' to do something risky based on what your heart truly wants. So there's not the same heartfelt envy and excitement amongst colleagues.

It happened today. I went in with my letter of resignation and met with my line manager and my boss. Both were a little shocked and alarmed at the implications for them and the team, but for me... they were delighted. Both agreed, 'good on you.' They both said things like, 'We'd love to do the same - but we're trapped. We've based our lives on the levels of earnings we get here, we've got our mortgages and our cars and our commitments. We're fed up, scunnered, disillusioned and angry, but we can't do anything about it.'

There is something of a vicarious thrill in their responses. But hell, there is in mine too!

Am I quitting a sensible secure job for a risky future? Or am I quitting a career I don't want, for a life that I do? It's just a matter of re-framing the risks. I've never felt so sure as I did today that the risky things are the right things to do. Quitting is good.

Why Boldness Needs Practice

"When faced with two alternatives, always choose the bolder." Chay Blyth

I love that quote. I reckon it's a fantastic notion to put at the core of life. Not that I can say that I always do - bold is scary, and risky, and ill-advised, and something parents will definitely disapprove of.

But hey! What the hell. Given two alternatives recently, I have chosen the bolder, and it's kick-started an adrenalin rush and a sense of freedom that is very exciting! The two alternatives were:

1. Stay in the job I've got.
It is about as secure as a job can realistically be, it is well-paid, it has good holiday allowances, excellent parental leave options, and one of the few half-decent pension schemes left in the world. Plus I like the work, my colleagues, and my boss.

2. Leave the job I'm in, for something that is only one step less risky than ditching the lot and going travelling again.
It's a short-term contract, with less money, less holiday and less pension. Whaddya reckon?

Maybe the above description doesn't really get across how I feel about the two options.

1. I like my current job, but the 'security' of it frightens me silly.
If I stay where I am, I could easily be doing what I do now for the next 30-40 years. The thought of that makes me feel sick. I don't want my entire adult life to consist of 40 years full-time work for the same employer, with 2 week holidays scattered amongst it, all driving towards retirement and finally getting my hands on my pension so that I can live without work. Just in time to find I've developed arthritis in my knees and wrists, or some other chronic debilitating illness, and can't bloody well do any of the things I've been waiting to do all my life.

2. In the job i'm going for, it keeps me practiced at being bold - boldness is something that definitely needs on-going practice. It's about actively making things happen and changing things for the better.  It saves me from stagnation.  It keeps me from getting too comfortable, so I continue to live simply, cheaply, autonomously, flexibly, able to act according to my principals without being cowed into submission by fear, debt or authority. And it lets me prioritise my family, my running, and the wilderness.

Plus I'm hoping that it'll move me forwards. It's hard to develop independent entrepeneurial skills in a government-funded establishment job. While I don't yet know where I'm headed, I hope it'll be in the direction of short intensive work bursts and frequent 'mini-retirements,' or 'years out' (starting to like that phrase, once its in the plural).

In terms of risk, I've already ditched the lot and gone travelling before, and found that it wasn't all that risky really. I've never regretted the leaps I've taken, though I have felt crushed at the points where I've chickened out, been sensible, and not taken the leap.

I may live to regret it, but till then, I'm going to be bold.

Be Bold

"Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it" Goethe.

Shortly after arriving in Japan, I became good friends with an American guy who'd also come to Japan to teach English. As the weeks passed, he found himself chronically underemployed and his efforts to do his job, and do it well, were met with both apathy and sabotage. Unsurprisingly, his initial enthusiasm, passion and drive gradually... faded. He became restless, jaded and frustrated.

One day, in the depths of the Japanese winter, he packed his bag, grabbed his passport, left his car at the airport, and went. He didn't hand in any resignation, or advise his schools in advance. He didn't tell anyone amongst his friends or colleagues in Japan. Quite simply, Monday morning dawned, and he was gone.

His leaving like that was dynamite. His employers were furious, outraged and flummoxed, though I believe that this was only because the whole thing didn't reflect well on them. They were only mildly inconvenienced by his actions, but acutely embarrassed.

It was the reaction amongst friends and peers in the ex-pat teaching community that really struck me;

• There was some concern for him - is he ok?!
• There was a sense of loss - he'd be missed.
• Some felt his behaviour was irresponsible, immature and selfish. That he'd treated his employers with unacceptable disrespect. And that he'd done no favours for everyone else left behind. That we'd all be tarred with the same brush, we'd all be penalised for his actions, and it would exacerbate problems that many others were having in their schools. Disapproval and condemnation reigned. (It should be noted that the people who held these views were mostly the ones who were doing well and aiming high within the system).
• But the majority expressed a hesitant but heartfelt admiration. Perhaps even envy. He'd broken the rules, and he'd done the thing that many of us dreamed of doing - but never would. Why wouldn't we? Because we'd internalised so many reasons not to do anything radical and true. Each and every one of us had a well-honed work ethic, or sense of responsibility, conformity, commitment. We didn't want to attract disapproval, disappoint others, or gain a bad reputation. We had practical reasons like financial debt, or too many possessions that we couldn't just up and leave like he had done. All of which ensured that none of the rest of us would be so bold, no matter how demoralising and utterly pointless our working lives became.

He'd dared to be bold, and to act where the rest of us just dreamed. And the consequences? I don't know much about all the other ex-pat teachers who kept their heads down and slogged on. But I do know that that particular American guy has gone on to realise many of his dreams, and continues to inspire others to do the same.
It seems that its true, that boldness has genius, power and magic in it.

Image by Mihai Japan