Dust Settles

I’ve done it, finally. On Tuesday, I tendered my resignation at the place that I’ve been working for the past sixteen years, my first ever full-time job. I gave four weeks’ notice, but taking into account time-in-lieu owed I will be leaving on 19 May. As of today, I therefore have three more weeks to complete and then after that, nothing. I have no new job to go to. A whole new future stretches ahead of me, though its form is as yet embryonic and unknown.
You don’t give up sixteen years of service on a whim. Nor, more to the point, the type of employment package that I was on: healthy salary, shiny car, chunky bonus, final salary pension and private medical insurance. This is something that I was hoping not to have to do, but for which I’ve nevertheless been preparing unconsciously since last September and more consciously for the past three months. I might have jumped the gun and submitted my resignation a few days ahead of the if-all-else-fails deadline I’d given myself, but an immense amount of thought and consideration had taken place over prior weeks.
I applied for a handful of new jobs earlier in the year. I was interviewed for one, though ultimately we came to the mutual conclusion that I wasn’t right for it. Feedback was generally very positive, with most criticisms focusing on fixable stuff like poor interview technique, rather than any deficiencies in skills or experience. Even with the roles for which I wasn’t interviewed, agencies were very complimentary about my CV and wondered only whether I was applying for the right positions. I could see their point, but I was so wrapped up with the present that I found it hard to consider the future with any detatchment.
In retrospect, I don’t think I really wanted any of those jobs. Their most attractive quality was simply that they weren’t the role that I’m currently in the process of leaving. Indeed, this current role is in many ways perfect for me. I built it up to what it is now over a period of years. Though it has often driven me to distraction, it has frequently been immensely satisfying and for a long time I couldn’t see myself doing anything else. However, things changed for the worse last summer and I was desperate to do something – anything – to improve my situation. The urgency increased as my health started to suffer, with a mixture of symptoms that could only be explained plausibly as physical manifestations of workplace stress.
I don’t really want to go into details here, because after a very difficult ten months I am executing a quiet and graceful exit from the company and for my own satisfaction I need to be consistent across all facets of my existence. All that quietness and grace is undermined if I start mouthing off and spilling out bile on this site, however anonymised and untraceable it might be. In any case, since Tuesday all I feel is an immense sense of calm and relief. I’ve been through the frustration, anger and resentment over the past few months and now I’m out the other side.
Suffice it to say that in essence I’ve had a difference of opinion with a new management team. My skills and experience have not been valued and my attempts to execute my responsibilities as a manager have resulted in me being undermined and sidelined. My view that the management team’s expectations are unrealistic and unachievable has not been taken seriously and there has been a breakdown of trust on both sides. More recently I believe that I have been the target of the classic symptoms of bullying, a view shared unofficially by colleagues in our HR team. No attempt has been made either to seriously address my concerns or indeed to persuade me to stay.
There is a quite distinct possibility that I could take my situation to an employment tribunal and that it would find in my favour. The jury is still out on this, so to speak, but at the moment that strikes me as a very negative step to take, at a point when I finally feel more positive than I have done in a long time. The decision to leave was a proactive move on my part, having tried long and hard through a variety of different channels to resolve the differences of opinion with my seniors. In my current state of mind, looking forward to what I’m hoping is going to be an exciting new phase of my life, I’m not inclined to turn round and re-live all that pain and unhappiness.
So, at the moment the plan is to take a career break. I have savings, no dependents, a very low mortgage by London standards, some investments that could be cashed in if things get desperate and – most importantly – the loving support of a beautiful and devoted wife whose own management salary could probably support us both, with a little reining in of taxis and takeaway meals, for some time if necessary. I can probably get by for at least nine months on savings alone.
I’m keeping an open mind, but at the moment I’m expecting to take three months off for rest, recuperation and thinking time, then start re-entering the job market in September. I have no idea whether I’ll apply for jobs similar to the one I’m leaving, or more general management positions, or indeed do something more radical. It’s an unexpected shot in the arm for The Big Forty project, the opportunity to think seriously about a complete change of lifestyle and occupation. If things still aren’t any clearer, I might start doing some IT contracting to get exposure to a variety of different companies and environments, to see if that helps.
However, over the summer I’ll be free of commitments in a way that I don’t think I’ve ever been. I’m aiming to read, write, decorate, travel, spend time with friends and family, visit all of the London attractions that I’ve been too busy or lazy to see since I’ve lived here, swim more regularly, do crosswords, improve my photography, get cracking on the family history stuff that I’ve talked about, kick back and listen – REALLY listen – to some music, watch all those DVDs that I never got round to, sort out my personal filing and archive material, listen to birdsong and watch clouds from the back garden, go for walks in the woods and just generally be me. Along the way, I’m hoping to find out who “me” really is, when he’s not trying to be someone else.
On the face of it, this could be an irresponsible move, but I have no doubt that I’m doing the right thing. I’ve slept soundly since Tuesday in a way that has eluded me for months previously. Already I look five years younger. The compulsive comfort-eating stopped overnight and I’m actually waking up in the morning before the alarm clock goes off, feeling refreshed and ready to face the world. I’m sad to be leaving valued colleagues and friends behind, but I feel only joy that I have finally stopped accepting a situation that I felt was fundamentally unacceptable. Maybe the crash is around the corner, but it honestly doesn’t feel like it. This isn’t some kind of manic high, it’s much more like the sun-drenched, rain-sparkled calm after the storm.
More will be written on this subject, of course. But first, there will be beer, food and friends.