πŸ’Ό Work worries

Quitting worries

Quitting feels scary, staying feels rotten. Grandma sorts your resignation daydream into two piles: escape and plan.

πŸ‘΅ Grandma's nagging

So you've come to talk about that resignation letter again. It's written all over your face, you rascal. Sit down. Grandma will ask you exactly one question: are you running away from something, or running toward something? Those two are heaven and earth apart. If there's somewhere you want to go, that's a move. If you just want out, that's an escape β€” and an escaper finds something to escape from at every job, mark my words. I knew a young man who threw his letter on the desk in a rage and spent half a year rotting in his room. And I had a regular who gritted her teeth for two years, prepared quietly, then moved β€” now she's flying. The difference wasn't temper. It was preparation. However much you hate that wretched company, the day you leave should be chosen by you, not by your anger. Do you have six months of living money? Have you scouted where you'd land? Leave without those and you'll trade work stress for money stress, straight across. But hear this too: if your body is breaking and sleep won't come, that is not a thing to endure. Then you walk out without regret β€” your body is worth a hundred companies. Eat properly and prepare step by step, you hear me, you silly goose?

Sound familiar?

I imagine handing in my resignation every single morning.
Imagining means you're not ready yet. Instead of daydreaming, write down your savings and your landing spot.
I can't tell if I hate the company or the work itself.
Leave without sorting that out and the next job will feel the same. Write ten things you hate β€” the list will tell you.
I want to quit but I'm scared I won't find another job.
Being scared is normal, you rascal. That's exactly why you prepare while employed. Doing nothing out of fear is the real danger.
My health is starting to fail. Should I still hold on?
Child, wrecking your body isn't loyalty β€” it's foolishness. When the body sends signals, that's your notice to go.

🍚 Grandma's prescription table

Your prescription food is a hearty bowl of seolleongtang β€” milky ox-bone soup with rice and a fat piece of radish kimchi. Big decisions should never be made on an empty stomach. Then the action: tonight, take one sheet of paper. On the left, write why you hate this job. On the right, write what you'd do after leaving. If the left side is packed and the right side is empty, it's not time yet. When the right side starts filling up, begin preparing quietly. Decide on a full stomach and a clear head, never in a flash of anger.

FAQ

Q.What should I have ready before quitting?
A.At minimum three to six months of living expenses, plus a rough shape of where you're going β€” updated resume, portfolio, a sense of the market. Doing all this while still employed is safest. A prepared resignation is a move, not an escape.
Q.What do I do when I'm angry enough to quit on the spot?
A.Never decide on that day. Anger halves itself in three days. If you still feel the same after three days, start planning properly. A rage-quit hurts only you, never the company.
Q.Are there times when staying is the right call?
A.Yes β€” when there's still something to learn, when you need runway to prepare, or when it's a passing rough patch. But if your health is breaking or unfair treatment keeps repeating, that's not a season to outlast. That's a door to walk through.
Q.Is this real career advice?
A.No, dear β€” it's Grandma's nagging, for fun. For a decision this big, talk it over with family, colleagues, and a professional career counselor, then decide for yourself.
Get scolded by Grandma

Grandma's heard these too