I quit my job, and it wasn’t easy. Ok, I wrote a blog post about how I quit work to travel.
Then I landed a remote job, allowing me to work wherever I wanted. I could travel with this kind of setup.
But they lied about this.
And I wrote a blog post about wanting to leave immediately.
They mobbed me and made it so much easier to walk away. Here’s my story…
We’re all ‘family’ here
I applied for a nine-to-five job in education. Within no time, I passed the three-phase interview.
I’d say it went pretty well.
The company boasted about its great career ladder program, and I got sucked in with bittersweet promises.
They touted it as this wonderful, supportive job where we’d all be family.
Hmmm… I shifted in my chair.
I started thinking about members of my family, and some toxic players came to mind. So when they said, “We’re all family here,” that brought up some mixed emotions.
They said, “Everyone is so nice and helpful to one another. It’s such a great community.”
No micromanagers here
“We’re not micromanagers. We believe in taking breaks and having a great work-life balance,” said my soon-to-be supervisor. She flicked her high ponytail around like a whip.
Hmmm…
I have worked in the world long enough to know the work game. No job is perfect, but in this case, the benefits outweighed my misgivings.
Plus, they said the position was remote and flexible. That meant I could travel and work on the road…
Sure, I’ll work here!
It started off okay
The job started off alright. I watched endless videos and read pages of protocols. The checklist of training tasks went on for miles.
My supervisor introduced me to some fellow co-workers. They seemed nice, but I saw the drowning look in their eyes.
You know that look…
The heavy forcing-a-smile look that’s about to burst into tears at any moment.
It got worse
My daily tasks morphed into a nightmare of repetitive, mindless chores. I slogged away for hours in front of three computer screens.
With this job, I would never have the flexibility to travel, let alone step away from my desk for a few minutes.
The disorganization and ever-changing rules shot at me like darts.
My supervisor pointed her finger and blamed people. She wanted tasks done seconds after assigning them. Her aggressive, rapid-fire-style emails hit hard.
Well, hold on now…
Whatever happened to friendly and helpful?
And the fact that they weren’t micromanagers—well, they would have to define that.
They watched my little green dot that showed when I was online. The minute I went offline, they shot me a message. They stared at my progress on shared files.
No matter how much I worked in the day, more work piled up. As soon as I finished one task, five more magically got added.
It got much worse
I had questions… lots of questions.
But my supervisor couldn’t answer my questions because she didn’t know the answers herself. So I did what she told me to do—ask other people.
I found no one knew the answers. The right hand surely didn’t know what the left hand was doing.
What a big mess…
Reading through the manuals didn’t help. I sifted through pages upon pages of documents. They used outdated platforms and gave us 15 accounts to do my job.
Every day, I filled out more useless spreadsheets.
My supervisor cursed and complained like a demon. I’m sure they’d write me up if I had done that.
She told me I’d take on more work because a co-worker wasn’t performing. I didn’t have time to do my own job, let alone someone else’s.
With strands of hair falling out of a sloppy bun, she said, “I don’t want to have to deal with her. She doesn’t know how to do her job.”
Ummm… don’t be a supervisor then. A supervisor has to confront people.
“Before you decide how you’re going to fix these documents, think about it over the weekend,” she said.
Really?
Use my duty-free time and think about doing someone else’s job over the weekend?
No, thank you.
Three jobs for the price of one
In addition to all my chores, they wanted me to take on yet another job. They would not pay me more, but take some cases off my caseload.
Two cases, to be exact.
It’s not like that made a difference when I already had 25 cases to work on. So, for two fewer cases, they’d reward me with three jobs.
I told them this wasn’t manageable.
“Go ahead and think about it over the weekend. Just know that if you do not do this, it’ll look bad on you,” my supervisor said.
Where’s the ‘family’ now?
The great family they touted at the beginning disappeared. They had lied to me.
I should have sat with my misgivings. My supervisor whipping around her high ponytail in the interview foreshadowed it all.
And I did think about it over the weekend.
I thought about it for sure—how the toxic culture made me sick and how I could not take it anymore.
The flexibility of this job did not exist. My travel plans had dwindled.
Time to walk away…
“Protect your peace. If it means you have to quit, then go,” a friend told me.
But if I quit my job, I need to give them time to find a poor soul to replace me, right?
So, I emailed the company, thanking them for the opportunity and giving them my two weeks’ notice.
The mobbing started
That next day, aggressive emails came my way.
Now we’re talking! Come on, family!
They increased my caseload even though I was leaving in a matter of days. And the cases they gave me had huge issues.
They told me to write a report to fix a legal issue they had created. My supervisors messed this up way before I was hired.
I had the expertise to fix it, but… not my problem…
They sent bold reminders of meetings on my calendar and cc’ed others who had aggressive comments to toss in the mix.
By this time, I had no name. And they yelled at me in all caps: YOU NEED TO DO THIS BY TODAY!
Whoa… no need to shout family…
So, I thought long and hard over the weekend, as they had told me to do so many times before.
Bye bye ‘family’—I quit
Then, on a Sunday evening, with one more week left on the job, I wrote them a follow-up email:
“I rescind my previous resignation letter. I resign effective immediately.”
After I pressed the ‘send’ button, my jaw dropped. My computer sounded with a swoosh.
I stared at the wall and leaned back in my chair.
Did I quit my job? Did I really do it?
All of the meetings and sour messages flashed before my eyes. I took a deep breath in and then scratched my chin.
Ok, now I had regrets.
What’s wrong with me? I should have written:
“Dear family,
It was so nice of you to give me this job. All three positions, for the price of one… I apologize for leaving this wonderful company. From the bottom of my heart, I will miss you all dearly.”
And I should have used all caps.
After all, they were so good to me. How could I quit my job? I should have stuck it out since we were all family here.
