I made a decision three weeks ago.
Actually, I made several decisions.
Hastily, and, one, drunkenly, which I highly advise against, but that’s not something I’m going to get into online.
These few decisions, while made in quick succession, have had slow-acting repercussions, and now I’m sitting here wondering just what in the hell I was thinking. Actually, that’s not entirely the case. As much as I loved my job at CPR, and as much as I miss working with the great people I met there, I left for a good reason. While realizing that does take some of the sting away, one of the most difficult adjustments to make has been not seeing those very people on a daily basis.
When I was sitting in my apartment that Tuesday night, going over the same, tired, and never-ending argument my boss and I had hours earlier, I could see the writing on the wall: in spite of how hard my manager, myself, and the other techs there were working to keep that place afloat, the ship was sinking.
And, unfortunately, it wasn’t for a lack of business, because the customer base was there. It was because the captain of this ship was absent ninety percent of the time, and when he was around, most of his time was spent second-guessing every little decision my manager and I had made, shifting his “number one priority” on-the-fly, and then getting upset, and questioning our work ethic, when we didn’t immediately latch on to his new change-of-plans.
It was an exercise in maddening futility, an argument that kept going in circles, and one he and I were having more frequently. We needed more employees to handle the workload, he said there was no money; we needed to order parts more frequently so we could finish repairs on time, he said there was no money; we needed to advertise more, he said there was no money. Yet, in spite of all of this, he still had the audacity to blame my manager and me for the dwindling sales and a piling workload.
His concept of “time management” was do everything. Now. Stop whatever you’re working on and start doing this. Stop doing this and start doing that. Why are you doing that when I clearly said to do this?
He was a nightmare to work for, and while I’m extremely glad to have that stress out of my life now, I still find myself missing that place.
When I was going through all of those reasons to put my two weeks in, knowing it was going to be a rough few months financially, there was something I hadn’t considered: the separation anxiety associated with suddenly saying goodbye to a great group of people who I’d been spending almost all of my time with over the last year, particularly my manager. He and I had grown close over this time, having each others’ backs when our boss went on one of his many tantrums.
When I sent my boss a text message, telling him he could consider this my two weeks, I expected just that: two more weeks.
Two weeks to try to help my manager and friend adjust to me being gone, and apologize for leaving him to deal with our boss on his own. Two weeks to possibly train one of the newer hires on a few of my duties so that my friend wouldn’t have to re-shoulder so many responsibilities on his own. But what I really wanted was two weeks to say goodbye to everyone.
All I got was an hour.
I went in to work the morning after sending my two weeks notice in to find my friend having been put in the awkward and unfortunate position of asking for my store key, and telling me he was instructed by our boss to have me turn around and leave after that.
I thought I had grown used to the many versatile ways our boss could shoot himself in the foot, but even I wasn’t expecting that turn of events.
It’s been three weeks, but it feels like years. Unfortunately, and much as I had expected, I’m not hearing much from my friend anymore. I want to believe its because he’s just too damn busy (which is probably the case), but more than likely, it’s because my decision to leave didn’t just affect me.
Everything changed so quickly this last month, and I’m trying to adjust to it, but I don’t know if I can.