I quit

Nobody quits with a two week notice anymore. It's usually an email. Here is mine for my horrendous job as a waiter for a catering service.




Date: 5/21/12

By now I am sure you are aware that I was a "no-show" for the Air and Space museum event. Ironically I did show up for the event, fully dressed in my tuxedo and then decided I couldn't do it anymore. I am too much of a nice guy and it was turning me evil. I couldn't take another six hours of being overworked with no breaks with constant yelling, confusion, unnecessary drama, berating, humiliation and treated like a third class citizen from management and not the patrons. There was such an extreme feeling of happiness walking away but also guilt. I admit, some assignments were entertaining but few in-between, but the majority were a bloody nightmare that tested latent violent tendencies. I could say, "I'm not cut out for that type of work," but the truth would be that I am “not cut” out to work for those types of people who act more like whipping guards at a slave auction than managers. The number of times I had to hold my breath, my anger, walk away depleted and divested --dramatically outnumbered any feeling of pride for my day. I know now that if a job makes you so sick in the stomach, one should just run from it. I don't think of it so much as quitting, but enlightenment. I wish you the best in your endeavors. I've dry cleaned the jackets last week and will return them tomorrow. Free at last, Michael Whitley