Transfer

Originally published on my other blog.

Lately, I'm reading about how to quit a job. And if you are reading this blog post, it means that I've already quit my job and am proceeding forward into a new job that I've spent a lot of time chasing.

A few months ago, I was ready to leave my job and post a cautionary collection of experiences on
Glassdoor, warning any future employees of just what they might be getting into.

Now that I'm staring down the reality of resigning – and now that I'm reading all the rules about resigning – I'm getting cold feet about posting anything on Glassdoor.

If you haven't read any advice lately on how to resign from a job, here's what they say (and this is pretty universal): tell you employer first. Be grateful and thankful and focus on the positive aspects of the job in the exit interview, no matter what. Write a brief and polite resignation letter; remember it will go in your employee file. Don't tell your colleagues before your boss. Be willing to accommodate/complete office projects and train new people to take over as much as possible. Work hard until the end so that you can get a good reference, you never know when you might need to come back (for something/anything). Last impressions matter.

I've already started reframing the act of quitting in the most glowing terms possible. I started the reframing process as soon as I started applying for jobs and it's still on-going: I'm not quitting because of the misogyny. I'm quitting because I wanted more opportunities to grow. No! Wait! I'm not quitting, I'm resigning!I'm not resigning because I felt black-balled, I'm resigning because I want a more collaborative environment. Oh, oh! I'm not even resigning! Did I mention that? I'm transferring! I'm transferring into a position with more opportunities for growth and collaboration!

GAWD. Even I, myself, feel a little disgusted by how marketed I've become.

As I reframe and market myself, I can't help but wonder if I'm really doing anyone any favors. Like my colleagues. I like my colleagues. I would like to tell them personally why I am leaving. I would like to thank them - because really, if there is anyone I'm thankful for, it is my colleagues. I've heard my boss spin his own version of why past employees left and I have learned that his versions are not to be trusted. I don't really want him to speak for me... or if he is going to speak for me, I, at least, want my version to offer a check and balance in their minds. When I tell my boss that I am resigning, how quickly will he ask me to leave? I don't know. But I do know that I might not have a chance to talk to my colleagues AFTER I talk to my boss.

Also, here's the thing about burning bridges: It's a small place in the profession. I get that. But I resent the notion that I have to put up with being treated unfairly and act grateful because nobody else will hire me if I don't. I mean: oomph. In the case of this job where women were treated with repeated disrespect, the advice distills to this: Swallow, ladies. Now swallow again. Good job. You passed the test. You may stay (and continue to swallow because if you don't swallow, you're out).
Really? Is this it? Is this in my best interest? Your best interest? Or just my employer's best interest? Is this really the type of advice that is wise for our society? Or is this the type of advice that furthers inequity?

I respect the need for some discretion. I accept that we need to think before we speak.  I remind myself that the next employee, or the employee sitting next to me, may not feel the same way that I do. The remaining employees at my office, presumably, don't feel as I do. Or, at least, they don't feel as strongly as I do. I tell myself that all of this is subjective. Then, I'll put on my well-rehearsed, marketed face. And I'll keep my mouth shut.  I hope.