I quit my job this week.
It wasn’t a decision I took lightly, or for one single reason. Rather, it was the drip drip effect of a lack of flexibility, hours spent in the office after years working from home leaving me feeling hemmed in, not to mention drowning in laundry.
I’d had other opportunities, part-time, freelance and hybrid posts that promised more freedom and creative satisfaction, but I’d held on until now thinking security was the most important thing until we were all settled in. As another school holiday loomed, I realised the time to jump was now.
So those were the real, tangible reasons, the ‘acceptable’ ones I gave in my resignation letter – reasons we’ve been pondering for months as Rich worked from home to pick up the slack I couldn’t. But there was another reason too, one much harder to put my finger on. And to a greater or lesser degree, it involved a robot.