I Quit My Job and So Should You

I quit my job today…

I just walked out. I did not say goodbye. I tossed my badge and walked out the side door.

Indulgent, you might say.

It’s not indulgent because I don’t have any money saved.

Foolhardy, you might say. My mom WOULD say. I can hear her now, her voice screeching in my head, and this is one instance I am glad she’s no longer around.

It wasn’t the job, really: it was the people. The stupid human dynamics. Just like high school. All the cliques and tribes and gossip and innuendo and cruelty to those who don’t fall in line.

All the conformity. Pettiness.

Passive-aggression.

All the fear and politics and stupid human-made-up rules, all the power, and power-seekers, all the lies and deceit and disingenuity.

All the disrespect and disregard and overall stupidity.

The stupid rules and requirements and the insistence that work be everything in one’s world.

I walked out.

I tap out.

I’m done with the nonsense.

It may mean I end up on a friend’s couch or living in a van, but at least that life would offer more freedom and autonomy, less daily doses of bad feelings.

Always bad feelings.

It’s the pain and suffering we exchange for a paycheck, not labor or productivity.

That much is clear.

So, I’m done.

No guard rails here.

It’s the risk that is the motivator. Keep that in mind.

Keep that in mind as UFC 274 goes down this weekend, and you wonder to yourself — flabbergasted — what human being would lock themselves in a cage with another with the sole intent of beating the other unconscious using any means necessary.

I mean, after you’ve made a hundred million dollars — why would you choose to do this?

Risk-taking is its own reward. That’s why. The bigger the risk — the bigger the reward.

So, f*ck you all:

I’m going to a movie.

Peace Out.