Celebrating Unemployment

Until recently, I had no idea that quitting one’s job would be something to celebrate. Well, it turns out it absolutely is. And it makes sense, too. I had a coworker compare quitting your job to getting a divorce; it’s a hassle and a bummer, but you’re a million times happier as a result.

So how did I celebrate?  

Thursday night I went out with some coworkers for one of the best happy hours at The Arsenal I’ve ever been to.  Supportive and encouraging peers + wine and poutine + hope for the future = a good time.  Such a good time in fact, that I didn’t take a single picture.

Friday was a whirlwind day full of bittersweet goodbyes to coworkers, a long lunch with Andrew off the Lot, and an exit interview that could be turned into a tell all novel.  Spending a mellow night in with Andrew, my parents*, and some Pitfire Pizza was exactly what I needed.

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*My parents’ visit was part of a pre-planned Southern California road trip to visit some old college friends of theirs, but the timing couldn’t have been better.  Having my parents support my decision to quit my job meant everything to me and is what ultimately gave me the courage to do what I’ve criticized countless others for doing!

My dad has always been the voice in my head telling me never to quit a job without another one lined up, but when he heard how bad my work situation had gotten, he was the one to give me the push I needed.  He told me his one career regret was not leaving a miserable job with an unreasonable bully of a boss sooner.  There will always be other jobs, but you’ll never get those miserable years back.  DADS. So wise.

Saturday, Andrew and I got to cross an item off our LA Bucket List: visit the Getty Center.

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Truth be told, I think I liked the grounds and the museum itself more than I did the actual art on exhibition.

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The Getty gardens were absolutely beautiful.  Dahlias, among countless other flowers, were in bloom.

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It was a gorgeous day and we all had a great time.  We ended the day with dinner and celebratory margaritas at El Cholo.  Every single time my parents visit LA, they go to El Cholo.  They’ve been eating there since they were in college at USC, which our waiter now knows because my dad always tells the story.

Sunday was pretty standard:

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Breakfast at Earl’s, shopping at the farmer’s market and Trader Joe’s, and after saying goodbye to my parents, some quality time with this cutie:

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101214 puppy Etta

No celebratory weekend is complete without an adorable puppy hangout.  What was notably missing from my weekend was time spent chained to my laptop working for hours at a time.  And so begins my stint of unemployment.  As I’ve told several friends already, I have no idea how long I’ll last before I start to feel like a complete bum, but I’m going to try my best to enjoy these next couple weeks as I reflect, refresh, and recalibrate.

Thanks for reading,

Amy

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