Read All About It

I’m on vacation. Resting from the grind is exactly what I need right now. Along with my job, I am involved in a few other things that keep me active for 20 hours each day. My sleep is dwindling, my stress load is rising – a nervous breakdown is looming somewhere in the shadows.

But for right now, I’m resting – sort of. This trip isn’t much of a vacation due to the fervor of it, however, there are small moments of peace and this is one of them. Resting in the South Carolina sun, next to a pool that is a comfy 86 degrees, my lovely girlfriend napping in a deck chair beside me, reading something of no informational value whatsoever: GQ.

I tend to make my reading very helpful and useful. I’m not much in to novels or fiction. My subscriptions are all technical, financial, business, religious or political. Hell, even this book I’ve brought with me is geared towards bettering myself. So to combat this compulsion, I have bought a magazine that will do absolutely nothing except entertain me in the moment. Right?

Nope. Smack dab in the middle of this mofo is a piece on 5 or 6 people who woke up one day to realize they Hated their jobs, their trajectory in life and wanted out. They did not know what they wanted to do; they just wanted the get the hell out of Dodge before the rot set in to an irreversible point. They all found, and continue to find, their way and would not trade anything to go back to the soul-sucking yet higher paying jobs they once held. Either this is a funny coincidence or the greater powers that be (for me it’s God) are giving me some not-so-subtle messages and having a high-brow chuckle while they’re at it.

Yep, the time is coming and it is going to be as soon as this trip is over. My panic attacks are still frequent and have not yet increased. Yet.

Let's Recap

I just came off a company-paid trip to Florida for a multi-region I.T. meeting. That’s one of the perks I will miss most of all – expense accounts. If corporate America has anything going for it, it’s the fact that it has copious amounts of money to enjoy some pretty damn good things. 5 days and 4 nights in a beachfront Hilton, with airfare, meals, cool gadgets and tons of booze all paid for.

On the tons of booze note, I sometimes think it serves one of two purposes:

1 – It numbs people during the time they must socialize so they don’t realize how much they Don’t know each other, don’t like each other or how little they have in common

2 – It serves as a catalyst to get people to open up and feel comfortable expressing themselves to one another in ways that the usual business environment has worked so hard to stifle

Much of my free time was spent with my girlfriend discussing – often arguing – the pros and cons of leaving sooner rather than later. The long and the short of it – I’m scared. Scared shitless to jump from this comfort zone in which I am barely challenged, rarely pushed and hardly rattled on any given day.

This is my leap to make, my journey, my decision; it has to happen in my time. The timelines and scenarios of other people do not feel genuine to me, and no amount of coaxing, persuading, logical (or illogical) thinking is going to change that. I usually don’t try to stick Too hard to a plan, but I also know I’ve not listened to my gut in the past and it has bitten me in the ass. I envy those who can just up and change something on a dime without concern for the repercussions. They seem to lack a fear of the unknown. For them, closure is no biggie. “Take care and don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” is their cry.

It impresses me, probably because I have a hard time doing it. And what makes me really sad is that I used to be a more ‘in the moment,’ ‘let the chips fall where they may,’ ‘throw caution to the wind’ kinda guy. I think the day in, day out routine of this job killed some of that – or knocked it unconscious, anyway. That right there is reason enough to make a change, eh?

The Start of Something Big

About two years ago I felt my first inkling that it was time to quit. I was beginning to dread the El ride to work. I was wasting away one day at a time, being stretched thinner and thinner, being asked to take on bigger tasks along with continuing the small ones. It wasn’t a matter of working harder for less money. It was taking on too much and having more to do than there are man-hours in a life.

The stress builds up day after day. One fire after another comes across my desk in a phone call, an e-mail or a personal visit – sometimes all three at once. Crisis mode sucks. It sucks even more when it’s the base from which you operate 8 hours a day, 40 hours a week, 50 weeks a year.

I have moments of inspiration; of really Wanting to be here. The atmosphere can be really great, the flexibility is something that cannot be matched Anywhere; the security blanket is warm, cuddly, soft – and suffocating.

I’m a foot soldier on the technology front. I’m lining the pockets of shareholders and not really contributing much to anyone these days – hardly even myself.

The leap is coming. I see the edge of the cliff on the horizon and it comes more in to focus with each day. This adventure is going to be too good not to document.

Good God, what am I doing?