Feb. 27, 2005 ~ Calling it quits
For almost five years now, a certain weight loss organization (hereafter referred to as "The Group") has been an important part of my life. They helped me lose weight, get healthier, improved my job skills and heightened my self-esteem. When we were owned by a mom-and-pop franchise operation, working for them was fun, rewarding, and enjoyable. My coworker and I often used to say, "I can't believe they are PAYING us to do this!" Followed by, "I love this job so much I would probably do it for free." We both expected to work for The Group just as long as they would let us stick around.
Times have certainly changed. Our acquisition by a big corporation was the beginning of the end of my love for The Group. The policies are so unpleasant and my fellow employees feel so unappreciated that many excellent workers have quit. No one is volunteering to replace them. In large cities, I expect there is at least a possibility of finding subs when you need them. Here, that is not the case. In my city we no longer have subs for group leaders, and finding a substitute receptionist is almost impossible. I have worked sick, worked for weeks with laryngitis, worked when I was in a great deal of pain, and have driven to work in terrible storms, knowing full well that almost no group members were going to show up. I had to lead a meeting less than an hour after finding out that a loved one had committed suicide, not because I was a pillar of strength or a martyr or a wonderful leader, but because there was literally no one else to fill in.
On one particular Monday in December, I lost one of my closest, dearest friends, a man I loved like a father. Earl was killed in a truck accident, and though I cried all the way to work, I led the meeting anyway, blotchy face, red nose and all, because there was no one else to do it. That moment, more than anything else, changed the way I feel about The Group. From that moment on, my heart has not been in this job. It's hard to explain exactly why, and it might not make sense to anyone else. But it is time to move on. I still love the members and will miss them very much. I will miss seeing my coworkers' smiling faces every Monday night. I will miss commiserating with my fellow leaders over the things that troubled us about our jobs. But I'm done.
Last week I spoke with my supervisor and gave notice. We had a very pleasant conversation. She was gracious and understanding, and said how much she appreciated the fact that I gave notice. Apparently, many people just quit. I'm working two more Mondays. She asked if I would be willing to stay on as a sub; I politely declined. When Earl died and I had to go to work anyway, it was an epiphany. I was no longer willing to work "no matter what," no matter how great the cost, out of a personal sense of responsibility or dedication to the members. I realized that I want to work at a job where I feel valued, and where I will be treated with respect and consideration. No sooner had I made that decision than that very day, literally just minutes later, my pastor offered me a job as his secretary. He didn't care that I had no secretarial skills other than typing. In the month that I have worked for him, he has sent me home early at least once a week. When he noticed that my back was hurting while I was typing, he told me to go pick out a new, comfortable chair. On Monday I was the only one at the office; everyone else was sick. He sent me home at noon. On Friday he noticed that I didn't feel well... again, he sent me home at noon. With pay. Go figure.
Having made the decision to resign, it's as if a heavy burden has been lifted. For me, leaving is the right thing to do. It's time.
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