Work at your job as long possible, save up as much money as possible, and apply to as many jobs as possible. I really hate my boss, and I want to quit in an epic way. Although I don’t advise that anyone reach out to a 20-something for any kind of advice, I’ll still give you mine because LinkedIn asked me to.īelow I've compiled some common questions I'm often asked and answered them based on what I think is the right thing to say. I’m gone.” It's over a year and 19 million views later and I am still getting emails asking for advice on quitting. Yes, hi! It’s me, the “I quit girl.” On September 28, 2013, I posted a funny video of myself dancing around my empty office and at the end I tell my boss, “I quit. I shut my computer and stared at the wall. I pulled up the YouTube video I'd posted strictly for the eyes of friends and family and made it public. The screen teased me: You can't quit, you dweeb. I finished pivoting and sat down in front of my computer. My body was shaking with adrenaline from an unbelievably stressful week culminating in my decision to quit. Hours before this meeting, I was pivoting back and forth in my apartment – a tiny studio in the heart of Taipei constructed for the minuscule Asian lady who lived there before me. The word "resignation" was printed all over the pristine white paper. When the staring contest was over, he delicately placed a contract in front of me. I knew this was the last time I'd be sitting across from him for a long time. I directed my glare to the table but not before catching a glimpse of that damned eyebrow he'd raise when he was about to say something mischievous or condescending. I studied the freckles near his temple, the squareness of his nose, and the subtle lines branching from the corners of his eyes. We looked at each other's faces for a long time. My boss glided into the cafeteria and slumped into the seat across from me. But I wasn't heading to those plastic tables to share one of those stories, I was heading there to become one. The salacious stories would bounce back and forth until we knew we had been away from our desks too long. He's having an affair with someone on the third floor. The stares followed me as I quietly walked over to one of the plastic tables I used to share with coworkers as we caught up on company gossip. Have you ever walked into a crowded cafeteria only for it to grow silent because every one was staring at you? I have. Follow the stories here, and write your own (please include #IQuit somewhere in the body of your post). In this series, professionals share all the right - and wrong - ways to leave a job.
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