The First Mistake

In my first post I said that I'd document my mistakes. Well, it didn't take me very long to make one.

My first mistake came on the day I resigned, when I told my boss that I was willing to stay for up to three months, even though contractually I only had to give one month's notice. I made this decision out of fear. I was quitting my job in the middle of a recession, with a mountain of debt, plenty of financial obligations and no life plan. The thought of only having one more pay cheque was terrifying. Three more seemed a lot less scary.

Besides I didn't even expect them to take me up on the offer, but they did, and I stayed, and this is what happened...

Initially I felt pretty positive, as though I somehow had the best of both worlds. I knew that I was leaving, which was the important thing, and I had this safety net of 3 months' salary and a desk from which I could research my new career all day. I felt liberated and hopeful. The things I disliked about work ceased to bother me, because I knew I didn't have to put up with them for much longer. I embraced the things I liked about it, and tried to take advantage of the opportunity to further develop a few of my skills.

This feeling was short-lived. The work was piled on noticeably and immediately, as though my management were trying to squeeze every last bit of productivity and knowledge out of me. I even received training on risk calculations I hadn't yet encountered, and was made to submit work and give presentations on them, sometimes with very little notice. On one occasion I worked til 8pm on a Sunday trying to prepare for a presentation. This treatment seems to be in keeping with that department's policies regarding leavers, but I'm sure the 3 month notice period made it even more tempting for my management.

Still I was leaving, I was starting my new life, and I was at least excited about that. I wanted to talk to everyone about it, to share the excitement and feed off their ideas and encouragement. But I was asked not to tell anyone in my team that I was leaving until they figured out the headcount and HR stuff, initially expecting that this would take a week, and then another week, and another. I ended up keeping quiet for over a month - longer than my contractual notice period!

The only thing I hated more than the increased mind-numbingly dull workload was the pretence. It didn't take long for the last of my conscientiousness to die. I dreaded going to work, and every day that I did made me hate myself a little more for ever choosing to do it for longer than I had to, and choosing to do so for money.

With a month to go I'd already handed over all the things I ever liked about the job, and at this stage I couldn't even feign an interest or maintain an acceptable level of professionalism. I was acting in defiance, taking advantage of every company perk, and giving back as little as possible.

One thing I did right, and the only thing that stopped me becoming a sluggish lethargic mess of a human being, was to take all my frustration out on the treadmill.

So I survived, but what did I get out of it? 3 months of hell, being paid less than I would in the contracting world I'm now entering, finding myself unemployed in a slow job market shortly before my holiday, and concern that my lack of motivation & professionalism in the last month has done permanent damage to the relationships I actually cared about keeping.

And the one positive outcome? A lesson, a memory, now preserved by this post - that 3 months is too long to do something I've already decided isn't right for me. In fact 'longer than necessary' is too long, and in determining what is 'necessary', I must remember that there is a subtle but important difference between pragmatism and fear.