Blog a Day 303of365: Leaving

Handing your notice in is never an easy thing to do, at least it isn’t for me.
My first job, working for a mobile phone retailer, I left because I was moving to Stafford to do my Msc. I loved the job at the time – both because it was extremely profitable and because the people were, for the most part, great people to work with. I had two managers to inform on that occasion as I worked between two stores. Both times I felt bad. In both cases, they were brilliant and had appreciated that as I was graduating, I was bound to have other plans.

The second time was awkward. I’d only been in the job a day. That was for a different mobile phone retailer. They’d sent me on a training course in Leeds for a week. That was fine but in that time I realised I wasn’t keen on certain things to do with the company. This was compounded further on my first day in store where I realised I was expected to work entirely different hours than originally agreed and that basically, I’d been misinformed a lot at the interview stage. On the second day, I handed my notice in. It was awkward. Not because I had any loyalty to the firm but because it was so soon. That and the manager made a huge deal about how it had cost the company a lot to train me. As there was nothing in my contract about having to repay training fees, I couldn’t help but feel that it wasn’t really my problem. It was her problem for not not being entirely honest with me at the interview stage.

The third time was for a banking call centre. Again, awkward. This time it was awkward because I’d been off sick for quite a while beforehand. It wasn’t really my fault. The stress of the job and general rundownness meant that I’d acquired an irregular heartbeat. The doctor had signed me off for absolutely ages while they investigated further. In the end, they decided that it would probably go by itself providing I rested properly. It was also suggested that a less stressful job would be a very wise move. It’s really not good to have an irregular heartbeat at the age of 22! Conveniently, I applied for one job while I was off sick and I managed to get the job despite feeling like utter death at the very long interview. I felt bad about leaving the call centre but my manager couldn’t have been nicer about it and seemed to honestly want the best for.

The fourth time was when I worked for a company which did criminal record checks for firms in Canada. Sound graduate job. Pretty dull though. In that case it was the easiest resignation ever. My Dad died. I was off work for a few weeks then when I returned, I was going to be part time for a week or two. After my first day there, I realised it was no longer for me. I felt distinctly uncomfortable and leperish there. Crucially, I couldn’t handle being back at work yet. I phoned in the next day and was told not to worry about coming back so I didn’t. No real guilt there, I had to look out for myself first anyhow.

You might be wondering why I’m writing about this subject. You’ve probably already guessed actually. I handed my notice in today. I’d been considering it for far too long. It was time. I think I only stuck it out that long as I didn’t want to let down the few people left there who I care about. They were brilliant about it and ever so supportive. I felt awful. It’s done now though and I don’t feel any regret. In 8 days time, I’m out of there.

The next chapter? Earn enough to live on writing. It’s getting closer