It looked like a Monday as many others had been, calm, almost sleepy, the rural small town where I worked trying to awake and get ready to face the week. People driving around in the morning hours at least avoiding the heat of the afternoon, some others stopping at the local bar for a jam-filled pastry and a cappuccino, others again pulling over in front of the newsagent for a to-go newspaper (just in small, rural town Italy, note!).
It wasn't a normal Monday for me though. It was actually a very special day, some kind of a milestone. I had made my mind up in the past few days, and I made my decision. I was ready to make my move.
While driving to work, in fact, I was trying to find the best way to let my boss (and my coworkers) know that I was going to quit.
Not that I really cared a lot. I wasn't trying to make it softer or anything like that. I knew the period for the bank, and our branch in particular wasn't an easy one. Our bank was under scrutiny for several transactions that took place in the past, and apparently upper management was being found guilty of a few felonies, mainly receiving bribes. Customers weren't feeling like their money was safe with us, and we had to face that feeling every day, with every customer. A pretty demanding task. Furthermore, our personnel situation wasn't idyllic. We were undermanned, and badly structured. We were losing customers to more competitive banks around us. A very big deal in a small town like that. Even considering the overall situation, I wasn't caring much about being sensible. All I cared was to get out of the place as soon as possible - legally, of course. A contract is a contract and I wasn't going to break any.
My parents got to know about my decision just the evening before. I told them I was going to make my move the morning after. They had been "brainstormed" by me about what I could have end up doing, for a long time. I think that, while at first they took my words as a joke, or a fantasy, their thoughts later evolved to dismay, resignation, acceptance and finally, support. They tried their best to make me understand especially the economic consequences I might have faced: losing a well-paid job in Italy at that time, crisis full-on, meant possible tough times. I didn't care. I was conscious of my skills and my capacities, I had no fear I could find another job, possibly much better, somewhere else. I had to give a big thank to my parents though. I think it's hard to hear such talks from a kid. You always want the best for your kid, and you don't even want to think about possible hard times for him/her. That's why my parents were so worried at first, and tried to dissuade me. When they came to realize that my willing was strong, and that I had carefully weighed pros and cons, they must have felt reassured and their fear became support.
I'll never stop feeling thankful to my parents for that support. Without it, I wouldn't be here writing about travels, skydiving, scuba-diving or car-camping.
The morning wasn't that busy, but I waited. I waited for us to have lunch togheter, and to return back to work. We opened back to public, as usual, at 2 PM for our afternoon shift. A little after 2.30, seeing the business wasn't great, I told my coworkers in the hall that I was going to have a talk with the boss.
I knocked on his door and he welcomed me in his office. I didn't have a deep relationship with my boss, for he wasn't the kind of person that opens up a lot with subordinates (or coworkers in general, I'd say) but he was always frank with me, speaking up his mouth in his pronounced dialect (he used to do that with customers as well).
"May I let you know something?", I started. "Of course, take a seat!", he replied.
I declined, saying my job was all about sitting all day long! So I started.
"Well... all I have to say is that I'm quitting!"
I still remember his face.
He turned his rotating chair towards me, his eyes very much wide-open, and said "Are you joking?"
"No, I'm actually quite convinced about it!"
He paused, slightly turned his chair towards the window again, then proceeded. "Well, have a seat now. When did you reach this conclusion?"
I started to tell him about my feelings, how restricted I felt living in Italy, especially my small town, and how "imprisoned" (almost) I felt at work. I mentioned the only time I really felt happy was during my scampers in the United States. I told him I had almost no interest anymore in talking to people at home, cause it looked like no one shared my feelings and my thoughts and my interests. I told him I needed a huge change, and quitting was what I had to do.
He didn't really object. He simply took notice. Then he started to speak.
"You know, I think you're doing the right thing. If that's how you feel, you're making the right move.The job we have is what it is, and the people around here, are who they are. I don't like all this either, and believe me, I'd love to scr** everything and leave, but I can't. I've got family, you don't, so if there's one that has the chance to do it, that's going to be you! You see so many people working in the bank that are highly unhappy, dragging themselves at work just because they need the money, maybe they have bills to pay and mouths to feed. But they're not happy. If you already feel your unhappiness, leave. You're doing the right thing, I'm not going to try to keep you here".
I felt awesome. I thought I was going to sit in his office for half an hour hearing somebody that would assume his role and try to talk me back into the boat. He didn't. I heard the words of a sincere person that actually shared my thoughts. Plus hearing words like "I'd do it too if I didn't have mouths to feed"... that's highly motivating. The message I got was something like "Do it now before it's too late!".
We then talked about bureaucracy. I had to go to the headquarters and talk them about my decision. So I set an appointment for the upcoming week with the HR for my area.
I had another duty though, first: let my coworkers know about it.
That was a bit of a mess, since I tried to be more polite and let everyone know separately, but some of them got word from the boss already. At the end, they were all sympathetic. All of them reacted positively, as if I was a little kid doing the right thing (actually I was a little kid, in that branch, compared to my coworkers!). Some of them even high-fived me. More than one said they admired me for my courage and were already jealous of what was next for me!
It already put some pressure on my shoulders, but it was a good kind of pressure. A stimulating one.
They were the first people - after my parents - that got to know about my decision, and the response was great, better than I expected. So far, so good!
When the following week I walked upstairs to the HR's office, I felt like Marco Polo could have felt in China during his expedition. Like an alien. I felt like that world made of appearing fancy and clever by wearing suits and ties, of money talks and not much else, of paper wasted in every corner and people highly unhappy hiding behind computer screens, I felt like that world didn't belong to me. Not at all. I walked convinced as ever of my decision.
The HR tried to talk me back into the company, of course. He asked me why I was trying to quit, he showed flashes of interest in my opinions, but at the end - as arguably an employee in his role has to do, no matter how sympathetic the person could feel - he just ended up again remarking me the opportunity I was letting go. I couldn't care less.
I remember asking his questions with extreme politeness, with a relaxed, peace-suggesting grin of which even myself was proud of.
Eventually, he gave up and told me how to act, in my own interest. I should have given a month notice (now that I know how it works elsewhere in the world.. well, a month's a lot!!), but at least I could have earned my last monthly wage - which was needed. I was already thinking right: "That could pay my flight to New Zealand and a few weeks rent!"
I agreed on the terms, and signed for my resignation. My last working day would have been September the 20th (awesome, long weekend!).
I shook hands and smiled, saying goodbye.
My last time at the bank's headquarters, I was thinking while walking downstairs. Never missed them.
Done. I did it. I felt like a freed-man. A freed-slave actually. So good, so free. I still had 3 weeks of work ahead of me but I knew they'd have gone by very quickly. I felt relaxed, for a little while.
Just for a little, because I knew that NOW, the fun was about to start. I had so many thoughts in my mind already - leaving involves a lot of planning, bear in mind!
When I got back home my relax had already shifted.
To focus.
It wasn't a normal Monday for me though. It was actually a very special day, some kind of a milestone. I had made my mind up in the past few days, and I made my decision. I was ready to make my move.
While driving to work, in fact, I was trying to find the best way to let my boss (and my coworkers) know that I was going to quit.
Not that I really cared a lot. I wasn't trying to make it softer or anything like that. I knew the period for the bank, and our branch in particular wasn't an easy one. Our bank was under scrutiny for several transactions that took place in the past, and apparently upper management was being found guilty of a few felonies, mainly receiving bribes. Customers weren't feeling like their money was safe with us, and we had to face that feeling every day, with every customer. A pretty demanding task. Furthermore, our personnel situation wasn't idyllic. We were undermanned, and badly structured. We were losing customers to more competitive banks around us. A very big deal in a small town like that. Even considering the overall situation, I wasn't caring much about being sensible. All I cared was to get out of the place as soon as possible - legally, of course. A contract is a contract and I wasn't going to break any.
My parents got to know about my decision just the evening before. I told them I was going to make my move the morning after. They had been "brainstormed" by me about what I could have end up doing, for a long time. I think that, while at first they took my words as a joke, or a fantasy, their thoughts later evolved to dismay, resignation, acceptance and finally, support. They tried their best to make me understand especially the economic consequences I might have faced: losing a well-paid job in Italy at that time, crisis full-on, meant possible tough times. I didn't care. I was conscious of my skills and my capacities, I had no fear I could find another job, possibly much better, somewhere else. I had to give a big thank to my parents though. I think it's hard to hear such talks from a kid. You always want the best for your kid, and you don't even want to think about possible hard times for him/her. That's why my parents were so worried at first, and tried to dissuade me. When they came to realize that my willing was strong, and that I had carefully weighed pros and cons, they must have felt reassured and their fear became support.
I'll never stop feeling thankful to my parents for that support. Without it, I wouldn't be here writing about travels, skydiving, scuba-diving or car-camping.
The morning wasn't that busy, but I waited. I waited for us to have lunch togheter, and to return back to work. We opened back to public, as usual, at 2 PM for our afternoon shift. A little after 2.30, seeing the business wasn't great, I told my coworkers in the hall that I was going to have a talk with the boss.
I knocked on his door and he welcomed me in his office. I didn't have a deep relationship with my boss, for he wasn't the kind of person that opens up a lot with subordinates (or coworkers in general, I'd say) but he was always frank with me, speaking up his mouth in his pronounced dialect (he used to do that with customers as well).
"May I let you know something?", I started. "Of course, take a seat!", he replied.
I declined, saying my job was all about sitting all day long! So I started.
"Well... all I have to say is that I'm quitting!"
I still remember his face.
He turned his rotating chair towards me, his eyes very much wide-open, and said "Are you joking?"
"No, I'm actually quite convinced about it!"
He paused, slightly turned his chair towards the window again, then proceeded. "Well, have a seat now. When did you reach this conclusion?"
I started to tell him about my feelings, how restricted I felt living in Italy, especially my small town, and how "imprisoned" (almost) I felt at work. I mentioned the only time I really felt happy was during my scampers in the United States. I told him I had almost no interest anymore in talking to people at home, cause it looked like no one shared my feelings and my thoughts and my interests. I told him I needed a huge change, and quitting was what I had to do.
He didn't really object. He simply took notice. Then he started to speak.
"You know, I think you're doing the right thing. If that's how you feel, you're making the right move.The job we have is what it is, and the people around here, are who they are. I don't like all this either, and believe me, I'd love to scr** everything and leave, but I can't. I've got family, you don't, so if there's one that has the chance to do it, that's going to be you! You see so many people working in the bank that are highly unhappy, dragging themselves at work just because they need the money, maybe they have bills to pay and mouths to feed. But they're not happy. If you already feel your unhappiness, leave. You're doing the right thing, I'm not going to try to keep you here".
I felt awesome. I thought I was going to sit in his office for half an hour hearing somebody that would assume his role and try to talk me back into the boat. He didn't. I heard the words of a sincere person that actually shared my thoughts. Plus hearing words like "I'd do it too if I didn't have mouths to feed"... that's highly motivating. The message I got was something like "Do it now before it's too late!".
We then talked about bureaucracy. I had to go to the headquarters and talk them about my decision. So I set an appointment for the upcoming week with the HR for my area.
I had another duty though, first: let my coworkers know about it.
That was a bit of a mess, since I tried to be more polite and let everyone know separately, but some of them got word from the boss already. At the end, they were all sympathetic. All of them reacted positively, as if I was a little kid doing the right thing (actually I was a little kid, in that branch, compared to my coworkers!). Some of them even high-fived me. More than one said they admired me for my courage and were already jealous of what was next for me!
It already put some pressure on my shoulders, but it was a good kind of pressure. A stimulating one.
They were the first people - after my parents - that got to know about my decision, and the response was great, better than I expected. So far, so good!
When the following week I walked upstairs to the HR's office, I felt like Marco Polo could have felt in China during his expedition. Like an alien. I felt like that world made of appearing fancy and clever by wearing suits and ties, of money talks and not much else, of paper wasted in every corner and people highly unhappy hiding behind computer screens, I felt like that world didn't belong to me. Not at all. I walked convinced as ever of my decision.
The HR tried to talk me back into the company, of course. He asked me why I was trying to quit, he showed flashes of interest in my opinions, but at the end - as arguably an employee in his role has to do, no matter how sympathetic the person could feel - he just ended up again remarking me the opportunity I was letting go. I couldn't care less.
I remember asking his questions with extreme politeness, with a relaxed, peace-suggesting grin of which even myself was proud of.
Eventually, he gave up and told me how to act, in my own interest. I should have given a month notice (now that I know how it works elsewhere in the world.. well, a month's a lot!!), but at least I could have earned my last monthly wage - which was needed. I was already thinking right: "That could pay my flight to New Zealand and a few weeks rent!"
I agreed on the terms, and signed for my resignation. My last working day would have been September the 20th (awesome, long weekend!).
I shook hands and smiled, saying goodbye.
My last time at the bank's headquarters, I was thinking while walking downstairs. Never missed them.
Done. I did it. I felt like a freed-man. A freed-slave actually. So good, so free. I still had 3 weeks of work ahead of me but I knew they'd have gone by very quickly. I felt relaxed, for a little while.
Just for a little, because I knew that NOW, the fun was about to start. I had so many thoughts in my mind already - leaving involves a lot of planning, bear in mind!
When I got back home my relax had already shifted.
To focus.
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