This week is a momentous week. I have officially handed in my notice. I have quit my job.
I leave on 30th April.
I will be saying goodbye to lots of fantastic work colleagues, all of whom care passionately about their work and the good that it brings to others.
I will also be saying cheerio to a regular salary, good banter at the water cooler, regular supplies of cake and paid annual leave too. Gulp.
And all because I want to be a full-time author.
I want to spend my days inventing and crafting stories. Having written my debut novel, Six Months to Get a Life, I now know that being an author is my passion of choice. It’s what I want to do. It’s what I want to be known for.
I have learnt something about myself over the past few years. When I respect myself, all is well in my world. I feel confident to face life’s challenges. I feel ten feet tall. I am proud that I have taken the decision to give writing a real chance.
But quitting my job is a huge financial gamble. I am a predominantly single dad and have a mortgage to pay. This will be the first time in my adult life that I haven’t brought home a regular salary. Some people may call me selfish for putting my family’s financial future at risk for the sake of a dream. They may be right.
Before writing my resignation letter, I took a long, hard look at my two boys. What would the impact of my decision be on them? They may have less fancy holidays in the future, but they will have a newly energised dad. And one who will be there to see them off to school and to welcome them home in the evenings. On balance, I am confident that I am making the right decision.
If it doesn’t work out, I can always get another job. Even in that case, when I look at myself in the mirror as I am shaving on the morning that I start my new job, I will nod to myself and be satisfied that at least I gave my dream every chance of succeeding.
Talking of resignation letters, I thought it would be fun to reproduce the resignation letter that Graham Hope, the protagonist in Six Months to Get a Life, writes to his employers. My own letter may differ slightly from the below, but one thing’s for certain, it won’t be dull!
After ten years of paper-shuffling, I am putting the world of logistics behind me and moving on to bigger and better things. I can honestly say that I can’t wait to go, and if any of you lot had any balls, you would jump too before you are pushed.
I will not miss being required to spend half my life thinking about blue skies or what is outside a box. I am sick of cheap tea bags and can’t face another stale egg mayo sandwich. Away-days are tedious beyond belief and appraisals aren’t worth the paper they are written on. I won’t miss pretending not to notice Daniel’s tongue hanging out whenever Sarah walks in to the office. I didn’t miss Sarah snogging Dean the post-room apprentice at last year’s Christmas party.
I will, however, miss Sheena from accounts. I will miss being paid whilst spending the whole of the first half of 2012 searching online for Olympic tickets – I got loads in the end. I will miss inserting rude words into lengthy performance reports just to see if anyone actually reads them. After ten years of doing this, I can categorically say that they don’t. Basically, I will miss the money. I am not sure I have earned it but it has come in useful.
Don’t bother writing a card or having a collection. I never put a penny into your birthday, wedding or new baby cards so I wouldn’t want you to have to feel you should contribute to a leaving card for me. Actually, Danny boy, I hope you don’t mind but when your birthday collection came round a couple of months ago I was a bit skint at the time so I took a couple of quid out and paid for my lunch with it.
Love and kisses.
(Extract from ‘Six Months to Get a Life’