Quitting Time

The other day, I was thinking about people who quit their jobs and the words ‘quitting time’ “whistled” a bell in my mind. Milhouse’s joyful exclamation “Oh boy, quittin’ time!” echoed, and as I searched for the clip, the weight cast off his shoulders is made even clearer as he throws on his jacket and walks out of the room (although the scene continues by Bart asking him to stay for the night shift, which ends in the whole factory collapsing), with a light bounce in his step. Isn’t that exactly the way you feel when you walk out of your office for the last time…

Unfortunately, there is no factory floor whistle blown when it’s time to quit for good, not just for the day. Quitting one’s job is hard, but I rarely meet anyone who truly regretted the decision afterwards. In this blog post, I’ll look at how you might know it’s quitting time.

I Love My Colleagues, And Nothing Else

“I mean, I really loved the people. But, I mean…” The former colleague’s voice broke off. I finished their sentence. “They’re great people. But you can’t stay for them.” They nodded.

The number one (and often, the only) reason why people would not want to quit is their colleagues. I myself have experienced that: I don’t want to leave these people behind. Maybe you’ll keep in touch with them – I am lucky to have some former colleagues with whom I do. But the majority of the great people I’ve met only exist in my life as LinkedIn connections or fond memories. Nothing wrong with that; it’s inevitable. You cannot remain a full-time member of a workplace when you’re no longer there.

You cannot say for the people if everything else in you wants to go. There’s several logical reasons, and one that doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with logic, but is the key reason. Of the logical ones, for one, you can’t assume the others will stay there forever. It’s not to say you should get out first before anyone else gets a chance; it’s to say that there is no mutual obligation to stay. Second, no matter how much you like your colleagues, they’re still just your colleagues. They’re not your family, and most of them probably aren’t your friends who you hang out with outside of work. If you do, you don’t even have to worry about it – sounds like you actually are friends, in which case you aren’t leaving anyone behind.

I think the key reason for which you cannot stay at a workplace if the only thing “keeping” you there are your colleagues is that you didn’t go there for them in the first place. Your job isn’t about your colleagues. You are not accountable to them, nor they to you. They can’t fix the myriad of other things that aren’t keeping you there.

You are not letting your colleagues down. If you are a well-liked person, they’ll miss your presence, but they’re happier for the opportunities ahead. And likely, if everyone else’s only reason to stay at a workplace is the others, they are glad you get to go.

I Owe Them

“They hired me when no-one else would. They gave me a job when I really needed one. They taught me everything I know. I owe them.”

Short answer: no, you don’t. Longer answer: were you a good hire? Have you done a good job? Have you put the skills you’ve acquired into good use at the workplace? Then you aren’t in their debt.

As a salaried person (an employee), the contract is very simple: you get money in exchange for hours spent working for your employer. That’s all you owe. You don’t owe the company for the skills you’ve learned. You don’t owe them for the complimentary coffee they offered. You don’t owe them for the good times you’ve had. Don’t stay out of guilt or a false sense of fealty. They didn’t “make” you; you did.

As I write that, devoid of emotion, I think of the one person to whom I still feel I owe something. I quit, and they were really the only person I felt ashamed to tell it to. They had given me a job when no-one else would, and I felt that by quitting, I spat on their face. I don’t know if they felt that; they certainly never made me feel bad about my decision. The opposite, in fact. I think they recognized why I made that choice and perhaps they would’ve done the same in my situation; perhaps they once had.

It’s probably an age thing, too. The older and more experienced I get, the more I realize that when someone employs me, they’re not taking pity on me. They’re estimating that my input is greater than theirs in taking me on their payroll, and I shouldn’t sell myself short.

It Might Be Worse Elsewhere

You never know. It might be awful in the next place; or being unemployed might be worse than you imagined; or maybe your sabbatical travelling around the world is tiring and sleeping in hostels with other backpackers isn’t quite as freeing as you thought it would be. You can’t know before you try.

But if you’re using that as a reason not to leave, I suspect it’s pretty bad where you’re currently standing? Every organization has either bad bosses, bad target setting, bad tools, poor pay, or any combination thereof. Some people tolerate certain deficiencies better than others. Staying out of fear is a bad policy.

It Looks Bad on My CV

“Do you think recruiters will think I’m flaky if I leave after only two years at a company?” somebody recently asked me. I’m not a recruiter, and my personal point of view is this: two years is a long time to do anything you don’t like, whether that’s a hobby, relationship, or a job. Sticking it out for two years shows tenacity, not flakiness, at least to me. Maybe I’ll raise my eyebrows if you’ve had twenty jobs in as many years, but if your career in all its glory amounts to about a decade and there a few two-year “stints,” I’m not disqualifying you for unreliability.

For a permanent contract in Finland, a six-month trial (probation) period is standard. Employers should reason that if someone stays at one workplace past the six-month mark, they’re not a complete disaster (that being said, I think many organizations lack the strategy for ensuring that you’ve made a good hire, but that’s an investigation for another day). If I were a recruiter and I reviewed an application from someone who’s most recent (and possibly current) tenure was around a year, I’d be interested in hearing why they’re seeking a new job. I’ll safely assume they’ve seen enough of the workplace to know what’s what and if it’s an environment in which they can thrive.

I don’t understand why short-lived jobs are automatically written off as the employee’s fault when it seems the majority of these cases stem from the employer’s faults and flaws. Perhaps it’s because it’s not considered good practice to openly discuss the issues at your workplace. While I value tenacity, as I write above, I do not think that putting up with bullying or harassment is something anyone should have to claim as an achievement.

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It’s perfectly normal to quit one’s job. It doesn’t have to be a negative experience for anyone involved, nor does it have to stem from deep-seated issues in the to-be-ex-workplace or even a terrible manager. Maybe you got an offer you can’t refuse; maybe you’re taking time off for yourself; maybe you’re moving country; maybe life just happens and you want to see where it can take you.

Still, I believe that in every single instance where you quit, there is some sense of relief when you do. That moment when you drop off your employee badge; give back your laptop; and walk out of the building, knowing you won’t be coming back the next day. Even if it’s with tears in your eyes, if you walk out on your own terms, I think you’ve made the right choice. Even if what’s ahead is hard and you get nostalgic. Don’t look back; look forward. There’s so much in store for someone brave like you.

When you’ve quit a job, how did it feel? Did you hesitate at all before making the decision?