So you quit, huh? Put your resignation in and now you feel like a man. You weren’t going to take it anymore. Enough was enough.
After all a man has to live with himself, shave in the morning and not flinch, what’s a job, never more than one’s self respect, even the perks don’t count.
Good for you. The wife and kids are proud of old dad, what a guy, took on the whole expat hierarchy and he is walking tall.
For the first few days anyway. Until the first little doubt when it is discovered that the company is carrying on without you and that no one really gives a toss you have gone.
Then the second little tendril of discovery. No one is beating a desperate path to your door offering you a great job. If anything they are all shying away as if you had the ‘flu.
Now, the anxiety comes in increasing ripples, lapping at your peace of mind at 0200 hours when the world sleeps blissfully and you are doing those ghastly little sums in your mind ... with grat and the two months leave sal plus the two accounts and that ten thou I put in the effdee and the one month’s notice pay we should be able to manage till Nov/Dec and then, it will be downhill but we have a four month cushion so how come sleep isn’t coming.
Then they put some dope into your chair and you think, oh boy this is rich, this is funny haha time. The fellow is a lightweight but not only does he get your job he gets your secretary and now she is not so keen to talk to you and your old colleagues are always in meetings when you call them and they never call back.
So, in Week Two to Eternity you find yourself saying you are leaning back, taking it easy, surveying the scene, weighing your options which all sounds very impressive except you wouldn’t know an option if it rode past you on Dancing Queen.
The anxiety ripples soon build into gentle panic. Your genius lies like an unopened napkin at a formal dinner, out of synch but the party is still going on.
Haven’t they noticed you have gone, why has the earth not moved, why has the plaster from the ceiling not fallen in.
Around here you begin to taste the first little tongue tips of bitterness. You are out of the loop, no one at home thinks you are the big hero anymore, the social life is an accident which happened on the highway, the bank balance is on a bulemia diet, the friends from the past have scuttled off like rats who figured out the ship was sinking and right across the board your jokes are not funny anymore.
It is now time to cancel and you feel about as isolated as a marooned sailor.
The friendly mandup in the office who always was so nice is now the adversary and he is going for you as if he had some Italian vendetta.
Now, when you finally reach this situation and there is nothing left believe me, there is nothing left.
Don’t, repeat don’t as in “dee-o-ennnteee” don’t do the following things:
Don’t take back your resignation. You’ll be a dead duck in the water. If you resign stay resigned, never withdraw it, it is self destruct at its worst. There are no victories in the comeback. Remember, a cigar tastes like yechhh if you light it again.
Don’t apologize in writing or any other way because it is seen as strategy. Apologies are for when you are wrong not because your principles are being held to ransom.
Don’t compromise for second best. You’ll hate yourself and even if the perks live and do the tango you, my son, are yesterday’s news.
Don’t lower your lifestyle. Expat lifestyle has no space for despair. Either maintain or get the heck out of there, this is a very unforgiving expat crowd: Only winners allowed.
Don’t try to meet the ex-bosses and cut a deal because ex-colleagues advise it and tell you all those wrong bits of information about how the boss is missing you. He isn’t. He won’t. He has forgotten your name.
Now get up, cut the threads and start a new chapter.
