Welcome to Funemployment

I walked out on my job last week. While the lapse of professionalism gnaws at me a little, I don’t think I’ll regret it. I was working as a cocktail waitress in a “breastaurant.” I lasted about six months. Most of the people in my life didn’t really understand why I was working there in the first place. I have a BS from Georgia Tech and a year’s experience working internationally with a non-profit.

Wherever I’ve been, I’ve always had a strong sense that it was temporary. I have come to the conclusion that this is because I lack vision. When asked where I see myself in ten years, I am usually too embarrassed to say that I don’t see myself anywhere. It’s the same for five years, even one year. I used to wonder if maybe I was just a lazy person, but I proved to myself that I do like working. I put in 60 hour weeks for a job that was completely without meaning for me. I couldn’t stay there though. I’m so completely introverted that being bombarded with hundreds of new people all day, every day sucked the life right out of me. I didn’t have the energy to enjoy the things I used to love. I ignored calls and texts even from my favorite people. I couldn’t even stand to watch people on television. I was just done.

So, one night after a typical 13 hour day, I found myself out of my mind weeping in my backyard. I’m a little surprised the neighbors didn’t have anything to say. I was not quiet. I’m a wailer. My mind was racing with dark thoughts that I won’t share here, and I knew that I couldn’t keep going like that. The next day I went to work like nothing had happened. The next day after that I quit.

I had known I couldn’t stay there forever. The money was decent, but it was always supposed to be a transitional position. I just got stuck. Now I’m left with the question, “What now?”

Good riddance to standing in these for hours!

I could try for an entry level position in my very vague field. I could find another random job to collect more stories. Marry myself off. For now, I’m enjoying being alive again. Working is important, but once you get to the point where you can’t even call it working for the weekend (because you don’t have a weekend in the traditional sense and also because all time not at work is spent curled up in a ball staring at the wall), that’s when it’s time to go. Walk away, and don’t look back. Fresh starts aren’t as hard to come by as you think.