5. I quit my job

And why I like playing ten-pin bowling with the bumper bars up

I don’t know if it’s too early to be telling this story. I don’t know if I’ve totally processed what happened yet. And I don’t want to be an idiot who overshares on the internet. But I feel like there’s a lesson here and if I can help one person from having to feel lost or confused or ashamed then I think it’s worth sharing. 

Three months ago, I quit my job. 

I didn’t walk in that morning with the intention of quitting. I hadn’t talked about it with my boyfriend or my parents or my best friend. No, in fact, I walked into work that morning determined to simply survive the day. 

I’ll spare you the details but essentially I marched in, had a deep gut feeling that it was no longer the place for me, put in my immediate resignation and was home by recess. 

I’ve done a lot of soul searching over the past year and I now know that I want to pursue a creative career. But what does that even mean? I have no idea really. I do know that I have a long list of projects I’d love to bring to life. I’ll admit, I can be delusional at times, in the way that I dream big and truly believe that I can manifest things into existence (I am a just a girl who grew up on tarot cards and vision boards after all) but I also realise that being a ‘freelancer’ or building a business takes time. And in the mean time, I have bills to pay.

So, after a few too many weeks enjoying the unemployed lifestyle, I finally started applying for part-time jobs. Tutoring, nannying, after school care roles. I would call these ‘easy’ jobs. Not because they’re actually easy to do (working with kids always comes with its surprises) but they are jobs I already know how to do. Jobs that you only need to think about during your shift. Jobs that someone with two university degrees, like me, is well and truly capable of doing. 

Filling in these job applications was a weird experience that brought up a lot of memories. About eight years ago, as an undergraduate student, I applied for similar roles but at that time I had very little experience in the working world. The resumes and cover letters that I submitted were filled with absolute fluff. That one weekend of babysitting I did in high school became a year-long contract. That time I helped a friend with their homework became a weekly tutoring position. Fonts size and margins were altered to make my resume appear more full. This time around however, I actually had experience to write about, which made me sure that I would be hired instantly.  

I applied for seven jobs. I got one interview. 

This lack of interest shocked me. I tried to pushed it aside. Alright, I thought, I’ll just ace this one interview and they’ll give me the tutoring job. I am a qualified teacher after all. There’s no reason they wouldn’t want me. 

The next day, an email appeared in my inbox. Thank you for interviewing but unfortunately at this time you were not successful…

What?! 

My stomach dropped and I slammed my laptop closed. I ignored my parents’ texts asking if I’d heard anything yet. I didn’t bring it up to my boyfriend. ‘Still waiting to hear,’ I told my friends.

Rejection hurts. I don’t know about you but I feel it deep in my stomach. It’s a punch in the gut. And it lingers. It feels as if someone has zipped open my abdomen, grabbed hold of my core, the foundation that usually holds me steady, ripped it out and run away with it down the street. I feel shaken, wobbly. Unsure of how to show up in the world. I find my voice gets quieter and I have less to say. 

I let myself wallow in it for a few weeks. I focussed on other things. Code for: I procrastinated. A few times, out of desperation and curiosity I looked online at job ads but found that I was too embarrassed to apply. ‘Nothing new online yet,’ I reported to anyone who asked. 

Not to sound so cliche but last weekend I did a triathlon and it triggered a few things: 1) It reminded me that I’m actually a totally capable person and it gave me the boost of confidence that I desperately needed and 2) completing this event left me without distraction, forcing me to finally face my fears and apply for more jobs.

I think there are two lessons here. 

Firstly, no one is ‘too good’ for any sort of job. Even these ‘easy jobs’ require you to put in some sort of effort and show up as if you give a shit. Employers or the Universe or whoever will always detect an attitude of arrogance and find a way to humble you. At the end of the day, money is money and everyone has to pay their rent somehow so, politely, get over yourself. 

Secondly, I think rejection is like bumper bars (like the ones you used as a kid when you went ten-pin bowling). Zoomed in, making contact with the bumper bars just feels like slamming into a wall. It hurts. It leaves you feeling battered, bruised and embarrassed. But, if you allow a little time to pass you might notice that you’ve actually just bounced back on course and you’re now rolling towards a strike. Any time I have experienced rejection - not being hired, getting dumped, not getting accepted into a university course, getting cut from a sports team - it has always lead to a different, often better, experience just down the road.     

So this week, I put on my big girl pants and put myself out there. I applied for jobs. And, of course, I got hired.