It’s not me, it’s you
If dating is like interviewing, then it should come as no surprise that resigning is like breaking up. After receiving an offer from a competing firm, I began to start thinking about how I was going to quit my current job. Much like when I decided to break up with my last girlfriend, I immediately was overcome with only being able to remember the good things from the past couple of years, and not the bad. And much like with the end of my last relationship, my friends stepped up to the plate of reminding me of the things I’ve complained about over the years. I even began to wonder if I’d even find a new job that was as good as the one I was giving up - despite the problems. I began to think I could somehow make it work, but deep in my heart I knew the magic was gone.
I began to plan out how I was going to quit. We (my job and I) had been together for almost three years, so I knew I had to resign in person. E-mail or phone just wouldn’t be appropriate. I even began to think out the best time of day to allow for any conversation that needed to take place afterwards.
Even the lingo is similar. When you break up, you usually start with "listen, we need to talk." When you resign, you go to your boss and say, "can we talk?" He even knew it was coming after the line. He looked at me as I walked in and closed the door and said, "You’re quitting, aren’t you?"
When I sprung the news to my ex that we were breaking up, she promised me she could change all sorts of things, you know, put right what wasn’t working. When I resigned to my boss, he made me a counter-offer. I even used the same line with both, "Look, I just need to find what’s right for me right now, and it isn’t this.
He even said to me, "Is there anything I can change that would make you stay?"
I may have further gotten the two confused when I told my boss that he’d find someone new. "Look," I said, "there are plenty of senior account executives out there. I know you’ll find another one - and you deserve a great one." By the end, I was comforting him, getting him Kleenex and telling him it was all going to be alright.
And to make a long story short, just like in relationships past, we outlined things we need to change, and I said I’d give it another try. The beauty of staying together is that at least I don’t need to worry about getting all my stuff back.
I began to plan out how I was going to quit. We (my job and I) had been together for almost three years, so I knew I had to resign in person. E-mail or phone just wouldn’t be appropriate. I even began to think out the best time of day to allow for any conversation that needed to take place afterwards.
Even the lingo is similar. When you break up, you usually start with "listen, we need to talk." When you resign, you go to your boss and say, "can we talk?" He even knew it was coming after the line. He looked at me as I walked in and closed the door and said, "You’re quitting, aren’t you?"
When I sprung the news to my ex that we were breaking up, she promised me she could change all sorts of things, you know, put right what wasn’t working. When I resigned to my boss, he made me a counter-offer. I even used the same line with both, "Look, I just need to find what’s right for me right now, and it isn’t this.
He even said to me, "Is there anything I can change that would make you stay?"
I may have further gotten the two confused when I told my boss that he’d find someone new. "Look," I said, "there are plenty of senior account executives out there. I know you’ll find another one - and you deserve a great one." By the end, I was comforting him, getting him Kleenex and telling him it was all going to be alright.
And to make a long story short, just like in relationships past, we outlined things we need to change, and I said I’d give it another try. The beauty of staying together is that at least I don’t need to worry about getting all my stuff back.
posted by Kevin at
9:59 PM
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