The day before I gave my two weeks’ notice, I was still not sure I was going to give my two weeks’ notice. I’d started a resignation letter on Friday, and worked on it over the weekend, and left myself a “PRINT LETTER” reminder for Monday morning so I’d have a chance to look it over one more time before going to work.
Monday morning, I put the letter in an envelope and put it in my work bag. I told myself I could bring it with me but that didn’t mean I HAD TO put it on the director’s desk. I could abort the mission at any time, and recycle the letter and change the date and try again later, or never do it at all.
But when I arrived at work, I knew I was going to put it on the director’s desk: it was the way I felt in the parking lot about facing another Monday with this supervisor; the way I wished I’d put it on the director’s desk LAST week, so I’d only have one week left. My adrenaline was high and my heart was pounding—but it reminded me of something I read in a book about hoarders: that a hoarder’s highest level of stress is right before putting an item in the donate/trash pile. At that moment, still holding onto the item, they would describe their stress levels as nearly intolerable. But if asked again even just a few minutes after letting go of the item, they would describe their stress levels as nearly non-existent: it’s the moment of decision and letting-go that’s stressful.
I put the letter on the director’s desk. The VERY MINUTE after I did it, I felt peaceful and good. For AGES I’ve been stressed at work, holding the job over the trash can, not sure whether to let go; I let go of it, and my stress levels plummeted. I felt like I was breathing again. I could feel the air going into my lungs, and my lungs expanding into a roomier space than before. I felt floaty, buzzy, happy.
I knew there would be several more stressful incidents before this was fully over, but it felt like I was ticking them off one by one, and that there weren’t many more to get through. The next one happened that same morning: the director asked if I had a minute. We had a good talk: exchanging mutual goodwill, both of us saying we were sorry that it had come to this. She asked if I wanted an exit interview and I said hell yes, so that will be on my last day. I plan to use that discussion to make sure she understands exactly why I am quitting: HR said the behaviors I described would REQUIRE a manager to take action, and I want to make sure she heard those behaviors, instead of hearing only my emotions. She ended the meeting by saying she would notify my supervisor, HR, and the board of trustees of my departure. I left her office feeling like I had a wonderful secret. No one knew I was leaving except the director and me.
That afternoon right after work I texted my former supervisor, the one my current supervisor got rid of with a campaign much more severe than the one she ran against me. (He was at an intermediary level of management, between her and me, and his position has not been replaced.) He suggested an impulsive late lunch at the mall’s food court, and we vented about the supervisor and imagined karmic outcomes for her, and speculated about which employee she’d target next. We were giddy and vengeful. It was the perfect way to celebrate a two weeks’ notice.
I have continued to feel almost HIGH. After that most recent meeting with my supervisor, I hadn’t been able to drink coffee because I was baseline too wound up / adrenalized / heart-poundy. I’ve been On Something (prescription tranquilizers; sedating antihistimines; stress tea with kava; L-theanine; etc.) every single day at work since then, and still haven’t felt good/calm. The day after I gave my notice, I returned to normal: drinking coffee, not having to take anything to get through the shift. I go into each day feeling good, cheerful, flirty again with my coworkers. I am feeling sentimental about what I will be leaving behind, but of COURSE I am: it was a good job! It was! I’m not leaving because the JOB was bad! I LOVED the job! And yet overall, I am feeling happy when thinking things such as “This is my second-to-last Tuesday.” I am not feeling any regret. I am not feeling as if maybe I should have stayed. I am feeling as if I broke free from a tractor beam. I am feeling as if I found the key to the handcuffs, and used it while the captor was otherwise occupied, and got away free, and the triumphant music swelled, and everyone felt relieved and happy as I ran away into the cleansing rain.
I still haven’t told anyone at work that I’m leaving, and my supervisor hasn’t mentioned it to me—or, as far as I can tell, to anyone else. Her energy has changed significantly. As of last Friday I would have described her energy as plotting, manipulative, and sparklingly malevolent. Her energy as of Monday afternoon is hard to describe, but to throw out some approximations I’d say she has seemed off-kilter, unmoored, uncertain, unarmed, dazed. I think my continued failure to spread the news to other employees is throwing her off even more, and she doesn’t know how to behave. To take it further and speculate wildly about the workings of someone else’s mind, I’d speculate that she THOUGHT she was playing a game where she’d win if I quit; but when I actually quit, she briefly regained perspective and realized that for a manager, this was losing the game; she may also be worrying about what I might have told the director; and the director may have told her that I went to HR, which should worry her even more; she may be looking back over her own past behaviors in a new light. She may also have snapped into the reality of what this means for scheduling, and hiring, and training. She took an absolutely reliable and capable and fully-trained and self-managing and self-motivating employee with six years’ experience and chased her away; now she gets to deal with that fallout. I think she got caught up in the game and forgot about everything else.
I do plan to tell every single employee why I am leaving. I am working on the phrasing. I need something tidy, shruggy, accurate. Something that clicks into place when they hear it. Something MEMORABLE. Something that, ideally, comes to their minds when my supervisor targets another employee.