Thirty-one blank spaces

I made the leap from my career six years ago this month. Why, how, and what happened next. BONUS: 6 financial tips for leaving a corporate job. (developed and tested by an English major, so...)

My feet hit the cold floor long before the alarm rang. After today, there would be no going back. The winter solstice was a few weeks away, and the sun wouldn’t rise for another hour. The morning sky was translucent—like my future.

I stoked the fire in the woodstove and pulled on my boots, signaling Rangeley it was time to go outside. Already sweating from the day’s first hot flash, I left my jacket unzipped and watched with envy as my snow-loving yellow Lab puppy dropped to the ground and rolled in the snow under the full moon.

Same dog, different day.

They’d forecasted a Nor’easter, which had already begun somewhere in the indigo of the western sky. I could smell the snow in the air. Seal-like, Rangeley wriggled his belly down the sloped driveway and rolled again before shaking off his ecstasy with a rattle of collar and dog tags before getting down to business.

In two weeks, I could shake off years of accumulated job stress, the pressure of politics and expectations—achievement fatigue after 30 years of working toward everyone’s goals but mine. I tugged on the leash. “Let’s go, bud,” I said. “Mom needs coffee. Today’s a big day.”

Despite all the good reasons not to (all of them money), I was quitting my job without a plan for what’s next. I hadn’t updated my resume, written a new LinkedIn profile, or started a job search. My Outlook calendar for January 2019 had 31 blank spaces.

Golden handcuffs. No parachute.

What would I do without a title, a development plan, and back-to-back meetings? Who would I be without performance reviews or the golden handcuffs (e.g. stock that vests on schedule) that bound me to a dreaded daily grind?

I’d seen the reinvention stories. Midlife women leaving their corporate law and finance corner offices to raise goats, make cheese, or start an organic winery. That wasn’t me. I had no C-Suite golden parachute or wealthy husband’s income to soften my landing.

But I had a nest egg and a budget. In truth, I’d been sewing my own patchworked parachute for years. (Keep scrolling for my privileged liberal-arts-informed financial advice.)

But would I deploy it? Would I? Really? Like an astronaut in her super-heated space capsule hurtling through the atmosphere, I both craved and feared my re-entry to the real world.

At noon, I logged into Zoom and waited for the electronic doorbell to announce my manager’s presence. Tiny crystals tinged against the window and accumulating snow made the road indistinguishable from the meadow if not for the fence posts trooping down the hill like a line of soldiers in snowy caps. Woodsmoke wafted up the stairs to my home office.

Can we pause for a second and acknowledge “home office” is an oxymoron, like jumbo shrimp, virtual reality, and silent scream?

Defying Gravity

“I’m leaving,” I said—no sweaty palms, heart-pounding, second thoughts. I’d declared it. I’d shaken off my heavy corporate costume, the pressure of business ambition, and the pressing doubt I was never suited for the job. My parachute opened, and for a moment, I was weightless.

I closed the Zoom window. The Slack window. The Outlook window. X’d out of Chrome. Saved my last (God as my witness!) PowerPoint, and pushed away from my desk, the keyboard, the laptop, the wide-screen monitor, the camera, the headset.

I splayed my fingers wide to ease the mouse-shaped cramp in my right hand and stretched my hunched shoulders and hollow back. Outside my window, ice pellets celebrated, dancing on the porch’s metal roof.

“I’m done!” I yelled, creaking down the narrow stairs where Felix had settled on a tuna sandwich and a can of soup.

“What did she say?” Felix asked.

I turned up one corner of my mouth and rolled my eyes. “Oh, you know,” I said, “the usual what-are-we-going-to-do-without-you nonsense.”

“So, now what?”

Crumbs littered the cutting board. A puddle of broth on the soapstone counters caught my eye. Not my job.

I shrugged. “We’ll see.”

Still not retired

I quit my corporate job six years ago this month. Not retired! I shouted to anyone who offered retirement congratulations. The saying may go, “It’s never too late to be what you might have been,” but I don’t like the implied regret.

Instead of what “might have been,” I had two questions:

Who am I now? And what do I want to do next?

In the first few weeks of gleeful unemployment, I played in the snow with Rangeley. Soon, restless and serious about the not-retired bit, I tried on new personas like a British wedding guest trying on hats—gardener, organizer, activist, artist, influencer.

Writer.

I’ve published essays in The Boston Globe and literary magazines. I write for AARP’s The Ethel (and yes, I see the irony), and I’ve published 70+ pieces on this Substack. I’ve got a stack of rejections and folders filled with works in progress. I seek perfection and procrastinate because it’s not possible to achieve. I doubt my ability all of the time.

But I no longer doubt who I am—a writer. Or, what I want to do—write.

This morning, I woke before dawn. A winter storm passed overnight, and the wind shifted yet again. Rangeley, ignoring the memo stating he’s no longer a puppy, plunged his nose into the crunchy tufts of sod and snow at the edge of the driveway.

There’s nothing on my calendar, so coffee can wait. I zipped up my coat and let Rangeley take his time.

Quit your job financial tips from an English major

My mother’s advice in 1978— “learn to type” — was not for nothing. I stumbled into the tech sector as an administrative assistant. Twenty-eight years later, including the paycheck-to-paycheck, wheelbarrow of credit-card debt, boxed mac & cheese years, I had enough saved for my I’ve had enough leap.

Here’s my advice, but please consult a professional:

1. DO NOT buy the fancy purse or jewelry. DO your own nails.

2. DO NOT get the maximum home mortgage the bank allows. DO buy a fixer-upper and do it yourself. (Thank heavens; Felix is both handsome and handy!)

3. DO NOT delay health care. DO get every allowable exam and procedure before your employer-subsidized insurance runs out.

4. DO NOT waste benefits. DO take advantage of maximum employer-match for savings. DO use your vacation time if it doesn’t get paid out in your final check.

5. DO NOT rush. DO your financial homework (including health and life insurance, and get a new laptop and cell phone if your employer pays for yours).

6. DO NOT think for a second you haven’t earned every penny, every benefit promised, every vacation day. DO reap the fruits of your labor.

Did you leave a job? Reinvent a career? On purpose or not by choice? Share your wisdom in the comments.

Thanks so much for reading AMID LIFE.

Work hard. Be brave. Believe.

Catherine