“I’m not a quitter” I sigh as I exhale cigarette smoke from between my lips. I’m obviously hooked on cigarettes. I’m hooked on working at my job. Although I don’t get paid enough for the amount of work I do, I dedicate any hour of the week because I have a sense of responsibility and duty to the organization (thought: is that another definition for push-over?)
It’s abuse, the way we are treated. It’s as if we owe the organization our lives. As if we had been begging for water and they had saved us. As if we had signed up for a full-time job on a part-time pay. As if working in a religious setting took away our freedom of speech. I can go into juicy details about where I work, but I’m not about to become an embarrassing headline.
I don’t know how to quit, because I care about the individuals I oversee. If I quit, who will care for them? Will they care for my individuals as much as I do? Will they care enough to think of the future and plan ahead? Will they care enough to go out of their way to accommodate these individuals? Will they care enough to study their background and culture and to connect with them on a personal level?
That’s my humble thinking.
In reality, I can’t quit because I don’t have anything else to fall back on. No past employers, family-owned businesses, or friend-knows-somebody deals. What sucks the most is that I don’t have the motivation to look anywhere else. My heart and mind has been fully invested at where I work now.
It’s a toxic cycle, and I really must quit.