An amazing and talented friend of mine quit his job the other day.

Like, really quit.

Told his horrible boss to shove it, and immediately exited stage left. 👋

He’s already sleeping better, jumping into projects he’s passionate about, and can’t wipe the grin off his face.

I’m thrilled for him.

This issue is dedicated to you, Rob. ❤️

Too much exposure…

I was 20 years old the first  time I ever walked out of a job.

I had been pulling some shifts at a family-owned restaurant, and the bartender was sexually harassing me. 😒

I endured it because, frankly, that was the status quo for restaurant gigs back then. 🤷

But one day he took it too far, lifting up my skirt in front of a crowd of waitstaff — most of whom did not think it was funny.

Their disgust with what he did gave me the confidence I needed to complain to the owners — whose solution was to sit the two of us down together to talk through our “conflict”.

There was no “conflict”. 

This guy was a cocaine-riddled dickhead who had put his hands on me and exposed my lace underwear to our shocked coworkers.

And boy, did that little kumbaya session piss him off. 

He retaliated (of course), making my life a living hell every time we worked together.

Finally, on one particularly trying day, I went to take my break—

And never went back.

After five or six panicked voicemails from the restaurant, I finally answered the phone to just tell them that:

• Yes, I was alive.

• And — I quit.

An American in Australia

It had been a solid 3 months since I had taken a day off.

But the project I was working on was important and exciting, and I was in the stage of my career where you:

• Suck it up 😮‍💨

• Get it done 💪

• And add accolades to your resume 🏆

I was on the team that had just built the largest ice sports center in the Southern Hemisphere in Melbourne, Australia — an $83 million venture.

And, as the token American, I was the only person on the team who had ever actually run an ice sports center before.

So while my official responsibility was to develop and execute world-class programming, I got pulled into every area of the business.

At first, I didn’t mind — in fact, I loved it. It’s rewarding to have your expertise valued, and be the face of such a cool project.

But as my colleagues began taking weekends off, and heading to the pub at 4pm on weekdays, I grew resentful.

👉 I should have taken my boss aside and maturely expressed my concerns early on.

👉 I should have set boundaries.

👉 I should have just taken a damn day off.

Instead, I put my head down, my ass up, and just pushed through those feelings.

Then one day, I was called into a meeting with the sales director, and his new associate.

This guy had his marching orders — sell, sell, sell. 💰

Which he did. 

Monday through Friday, 9am - 5pm. 🙄

And he had just sold a program concept that was impossible to execute, so he was coming to me to figure out how to make it happen.

He walked me through what he had promised this client, and I told him that it wasn’t possible — he was going to need to go back to them with a different plan.

But he wasn’t going to do that. 

He wanted me to figure out how to make his impossible plan work somehow.

Frustrated by my “inflexibility”, he said, “Kristin, sometimes you just need to put in a little extra effort.”

That was it for me.

I stood up, and walked out of the building.

Seriously — I didn’t even stop at my office to collect anything. I didn’t say a word to anyone.

I just… left.

I arrived home to a very surprised husband, who couldn’t figure out why I was walking in the door in the middle of the day.

And I immediately pulled out my laptop and started looking for other jobs.

I was f*cking done.

A few hours later, my boss called. I hadn’t been at my desk, and he finally got the story of what happened out of the new sales associate.

He apologized profusely, and I had cooled off a bit. He promised that the sales director wouldn’t be a problem for me any more, and convinced me to stick it out.

When I arrived the next day, the sales director’s desk was cleaned out. 

They fired him. 🙏 

The associate who had witnessed the drama was promoted to fill the role.

And as things settled down, he ended up becoming my favorite coworker. Partly because he knew not to f*ck with me, but mainly because he was great at his job.

While I never did strike the right balance between my American work ethic and the Australian lifestyle, things got a little better after my walkout.

But I never would have taken that risk in the first place if it wasn’t for…

“F*ck you” money

If you’ve ever walked out of a toxic job, you’ve felt the strange blend of euphoria and terror that hits you like a Mack Truck. ☠️

The euphoria is caused by the immediate release from the chokehold that’s been causing you unbearable stress.

The terror is caused by one thing — kissing your paycheck goodbye. 💸

This is why my dad always encouraged me to save up “f*ck you” money.

I’m not kidding. This is exactly what he calls it.

It’s what most people would refer to as an “emergency fund”.

But dad’s nothing if not—ahem—colorful. 🌈 

So in case you need to say “f*ck you” to a:

• Toxic boss

• Demanding client

• Lying co-founder

You’re covered. 🤷

It’s always nice to part ways on good terms, but don’t endure a shitty situation just so you can provide ample notice and line up your next gig.

They don’t deserve another second of your time.

Sometimes, the best thing you can do is say “f*ck you” — and walk away.

Cheers! 🍻 

-Kristin