A Promotion or Worse
Meanwhile, in New Zealand again:
Auckland ad man Joshua Jack said he sensed the bad news when he received an email from his agency employer telling him they needed to have a meeting to discuss his role this week. “I thought, it’s either a promotion or worse. I thought it was best to bring in a professional — so I paid $200 and hired a clown.”
As a clown myself, I would hereby like to offer my services to employed New Escapologist readers. $200 NZD plus travel expenses. I’ll sit with you, silently (my style of clowning), in a meeting. I’ll wear a sharp suit and a red nose.
The clown mimed crying as Jack’s employers slid the redundancy paperwork across the table and created a balloon unicorn and poodle to lighten the mood.
“It was sort of noisy, him making balloon animals, so we did have to tell him to be quiet from time to time.”
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New Escapologist Issue 18 is now available to order for prompt shipping in November.
When It Suddenly Occurred to Me
I love hearing about an epiphany: when people remember the moment they snapped, the precise second they decided enough was enough.
Here’s a beauty from the poet Michael Shann:
September 1989, Liverpool. I was 22 and had just begun an accountancy course that would guarantee a secure career in NHS finance for the next 40 years. It all felt wrong. I should have been in a lecture but was walking up Ranelagh Street towards the Adelphi Hotel when it suddenly occurred to me. I’m a poet.
It’s perfect. He remembers the place, the idea, the feeling:
It struck me with such a blow of truth and clarity that I walked straight down Lime Street to the Central Library, found a place at one of the big reading tables and wrote my first poem.
Did you spot the truly unusual part? It’s the part where he did something about it.
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New Escapologist Issue 18 is now available to order for prompt shipping in November.
Dream Job
Heather Delaney is a fibre artist who also runs a blog about her nomadic lifestyle.
“Quit your job,” she says, “sell your stuff, make your life yours.” We couldn’t agree more.
Here’s one of her recent artworks, a weaving of one of our favourite antiwork sentiments. It’s a suggestion of what to say when you’re asked about your “dream job”:
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The Escape of Mark Russell
Thanks to Reader C for drawing our attention to the story of Mark Russell who cashed in his Pokémon cards in a successful bid for escape.
With the money, he quit his job in PR to travel New Zealand in a camper van.
As a result of the windfall … he’s been able to buy the 2019 ex-rental Carado RV, while boosting the bank accounts of his family. He’s quit fulltime work, packing in corporate life for rolling countryside.
The inspiration to travel — pay attention, kids — came not from sudden wealth but from reading:
“Many years ago, I was captivated by the book Blue Highways [by William Least Heat-Moon], a story about his journey around the back roads of the United States, and I guess that’s what I’m doing here,” says Russell.
Mark now spends his time (over 100 days now) experiencing beauty and talking to fellow travellers. And, naturally, he reflects that:
your working life may not have been as important as you thought at the time.
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I Never Heard From Them Again
Did leaving in a viral blaze of glory hamper his ability to get another job? Not in the slightest. Soon after leaving, DeFrancesco began working in a museum. He says the incident has “honestly never come up” in job interviews since. In fact, he says it might be something to “put on the résumé”.
This is Joey DeFrancesco speaking, 15 years after making headlines for quitting his crappy hotel job with the help of of brass band.
For anyone wondering if quitting a job suddenly or spectacularly or on a whim might ruin their future job prospects, this is clear evidence that you need not worry. The world of work wants you.
There’s a lengthy piece in the Guardian today (on Monday morning, naturally) about people who quit their jobs loudly and outrageously.
Believe it or not, I don’t encourage this. I encourage quitting for sure, but I find this sort of spectacle a bit nauseating and it might scare or upset the people you’re leaving behind – most of whom are there under duress, just as you were.
It’s better to send a dignified email, work your notice, explain politely why you’re leaving, and deposit one last paycheque before scarpering.
Still, it’s important to remember that walking out doesn’t defy the laws of physics. You can just go:
“Two months [notice]? You’re lucky if I give you fucking two weeks. I gave you two hours, babe. I’m leaving now.”
But even the quiet dignity of an “I quit” email can instil a wonderful feeling of liberty:
After the email was sent, her boss tried to call her. She didn’t pick up the phone. “I never heard from them again,” she says. After Carly left the office for the final time, she felt euphoric. “I could have stripped my clothes off and run naked all the way home. The anxiety and stress I had been feeling all vanished,” she says.
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New Escapologist Issue 18 can be ordered today for prompt shipping in early November.
