by Lauren Randolph
…in which Lauren ponders what she’s doing in quitting her job… especially in the context of the community she’s leaving…
What am I doing?
(Lauren seriously wants answers here and implicitly shares the desperation she feels in posing the question to begin with…)
There must be a word for it.
I’m quitting. That’s my word. Plain and simple. It feels right – comfortable. And tight within my box.
I also say I’m resigning. That word is factually correct. But it’s a euphemism. After all, just like quitting, no one resigns because s/he is completely happy with the situation. I’m still sold on “quitting” as being the unencumbered truth.
But, to paraphrase Jack Nicholson in the movie A Few Good Men, people “can’t handle the truth.”
So maybe I need a word that people can handle. It turns out the situation can be quite loaded for lots of people in various – and sometimes surprising – ways.
One of those handle-able words seems to be “retiring.” Yes, I’m technically retiring from an organization I’ve worked at for more than 20 years, but I’m not retiring in the sense that I’m done with work for good. But it does avoid a lot questions about why. The comfort factor is a strong one.
But “retiring” also seems dismissive – by the young of the old. “Retiring” makes me feel OLD. (And just yesterday I got my retirement present in the mail – a beautiful leather portfolio and Tiffany pen with my university’s seal on both to make me feel REALLY old.)
I tell people I’m dropping out for a time – I figure this is my birthright having grown up in the 60s – but I’m not disappearing.
We in our 50s don’t seem to have a word that adequately expresses leaving one’s old job/long-time career to take up a new one, yet to be defined, as the next stage in life. And if we did, I wouldn’t want the word to be as limiting as “retirement” to constrain the next 30 years of my life.
I’m told, by those who’ve been through this before, that I’m being “promoted.” That’s their term of choice. It sounds like something we in that fraternity want to make ourselves believe.
Maybe I’m being promoted, but certainly not in the sense of making more money. If anything I’ll be making less – much less – maybe no money at all…
I think I should look at it as being promoted (or, rather, promoting myself) to focus on a higher goal.
I like that. Especially the part about me being in charge. So it’s a promotion in the sense that I’ll have more control over how I spend my time.
I’ve heard stories recently that that one’s announcement of impending retirement can lead to surprisingly negative reactions. Who would have thought that your retirement would cause some friends to turn on you?
I don’t recognize half the names of people who signed my retirement card. Was it perfunctory or heartfelt?
Probably both. For that reason, I’ve always hated signing those kinds of cards.
The younger people seem convinced I’m retiring. Which begs the question: How old do they think I am? I realize I could be their mother age-wise, but are their mothers now retiring? Or do they think I can afford to quit a job without another lined up? Probably not. Do they give it that much thought? I’m guessing not, since I’ve had merely passing contact with many of the signatories…
I like to think I’m going to be redefining what the term “work” means. In my own way. For me.
I’ve decided that I’m “repurposing” myself. For the next step forward. Something different from my communications background but still involving writing. Fiction, I think. Mainly. MY stuff.
But “repurposing” makes me sound like I’ve turned into a thing that has to be remanufactured or is finding new life in some adulterated form that someone has determined now has value.
…
So, with repurposing in mind, if I’m really a writer, what kind of writing do I want to do?
…
That’s the ultimate question, one posed by a writer friend who’s had his stuff published. (But, as he admits, that was 20 years ago and times have certainly changed in the publishing world.)
For whatever reason, and for now, I have a strong aversion to writing anything I’m asked to write. And if it’s on a topic I know nothing about, which is not unusual for a freelance writer, all the stronger my aversion.
Am I lazy? Unmotivated?
Am I tired?
Or do I just want to do what I just want to do?
Is the motivation purely selfish, or creative, or some combination of both?
That’s what I need to find out.
And my friend, the cowardly lion, has just reappeared with his movie nod.
For now, I’m couldn’t care less about producing, product, pro, pro, pro…It all sounds like bla bla bla to me. In fact, I’m having problems getting this piece done because my new friend “Vista” keeps wanting to change my spelling and correct my capitalization.
So I’m going to wait to undertake any freelance work. Because I want to do it for the right reasons and produce something that I can be proud of. Oh yes, and that ol’ pesky issue of a byline – that’s something I’ll insist on. I vowed when I left my job that I wouldn’t do any unattributed work again.
When in doubt, a previous boss advised me, I should seek advice from others.
So, I think now what I need is a new community to help me sort out dotting the “i”s and crossing the “t”s into this new life I envision.