why I quit my last job

Last week marked the one year anniversary of the last week of my old job. I would be lying if I said that I was devastated to leave that job. There are certainly some people I miss working with, but there are also some people I'm glad I don't ever have to deal with again, and the work itself... not so much the fun.

Perhaps it was because I extended myself more than I should have, maybe it was because I answered my work administered cell phone every time it rang, no matter what time it was, but after almost two years of being a company manager I couldn't bear the thought of booking another flight, prepping another apartment or listening to one more upset actor. I started to crack at the end of May and finally by August I was on my way out. I was so eager to leave at that point that I didn't even have another job lined up and only two months of rent saved. Probably not the best idea in the Bay Area, but I felt like I had no other choice.

The last show I worked on was one with "stars". It was important for me to keep these stars happy, that was part of my job. I was to accomplish star bliss by being extremely pleasant, insanely attentive and upholding all of the commitments made by others, many of which I was not aware of. Most of these promises were made by the Super Powerful Ultimate Director (SPUD) of the company.

The first time I was aware of these clandestine deals was when I booked some business class plane tickets instead of first class. Even though I had the executed contracts in my hands, stating what I could and couldn't do or buy, I received some angry calls from managers in L.A. about my "out of line" purchases and was told that I was violating verbal agreements which were made by the SPUD just yesterday. I was asked more than once if I knew who I was dealing with. I think I had a pretty good idea. These people weren't even in town yet and I had knots in my stomach anticipating what else could possibly go wrong.

Then the best part came, I had the pleasure of picking up cast members at the airport. It was a joy to be driving a filthy company car around and hear of all the promised wonders I was to provide for these stars; the special meals, the tours of the city and the comp tickets I had for them for other shows on their afternoon off. Granted, this was all part of my job and I had no problem fulfilling (or at least delegating) these requests, but it would have been nice if SPUD, who promised all these things, had let me know the specifics or even just said "hey, I promised all these people so much stuff I don't even know what I said, so good luck!" I ended up looking like a bobblehead on these rides with the stars, smiling and nodding while driving, taking mental notes of what I needed to do. Sleep was lost on these days, rage persisted, so to avoid a break down I had my intern take over for a few airport runs. He too became miffed with the entire experience. He liked to take his own pristine car to the airport and came back steaming one time because one of the cast members, who seemed to have brief bouts with narcolepsy, ate a crumbly muffin while dozing off in the front seat of his new car.

The show ran for eight weeks, with the cast changing every two weeks, so every other week held new and wonderful surprises for me. Upon each arrival I could expect the unexpected and nothing was out of the realm of possibility. I think the worst incident was being obliged to find soul food in Berkeley at 10:00pm on Sunday night, or maybe it was the time I had to find comfortable quarters and a watchful eye for a dog who had just had hip surgery and was on a fair amount of pain killers.

The 12 - 16 hour days I worked during the rehearsal and run of this show were wearing me down. I was officially miserable. Something had to be done. I talked to my boss, who was the coolest boss I've ever had, and she said she would see what they could do to compensate me. She told me she would talk to the SPUD and let me know what they come up with.

The next day I was called into the SPUD's office.

The SPUD thanked me for all my hard work over the last few months and assured me that I was doing a bang up job. I sat there patiently while she told me how lucky I was to work with such stars and what a privilege it was for me to be able to get up close and personal with each and every one. I did my usual routine of nodding and smiling, just like in the car, waiting for some sort of bonus or a mention of some extra vacation time to fly my way, just something more than words. I had enough of the words, I wanted more. And more is what I got.

As the SPUD got to the end of her speech she informed me she wanted to give me something to show her gratitude. SPUD rolled her chair over to her purse and pulled out her personal checkbook. As she carefully wrote on a check and handed it to me she was proud to announce that she found out my wedding anniversary had recently passed and she knew Alex and I were going camping for the weekend. This personal check from SPUD was to say thank you for everything. This personal check from SPUD was to be used to buy a nice bottle of champagne for my anniversary getaway. This personal check from SPUD had a note that said "happy anniversary". This personal check from SPUD was for the amount of $25.00.

I wasn't sure what to do. The whole series of events simultaneously confused, irritated and amused me. I thanked SPUD and left. I told my boss about it and she chuckled told me that wasn't what she had in mind or discussed with SPUD in terms of compensation, but what could we do? I shoved the check in my pocket and went home for the day. I thought about framing the check and putting it above my desk, but then decided to cash it and buy a case of beer and some beef jerky.

A few days later I was sitting at my desk and SPUD came into the office with her son, as she often did on Friday afternoons, to check in with everyone. SPUD seemed surprised to see me at my desk and asked why I wasn't on my anniversary camping trip. I explained that I would be leaving after work that day. SPUD looked out the window at the gloomy cloud cover and the following dialogue took place:

SPUD: Too bad you'll have such shitty weather.
me: We're actually going a little further south, so I think it should be okay.
SPUD: Oh, well, if it does rain you can just stay in your tent and fuck all weekend!
me: what?
SPUD: Well, it's true! Tell Alex I said that's a direct order!

As if this exchange was not unfortunate enough, please keep in mind that there were about seven other people milling around the office to witness it, one of them being SPUD's son.

And that, my friends, was the straw that broke this camel's back, and when I decided I would quit my job.
At least I got a case of beer out of it.