I Quit my Six-Figure Job to Sell Popsicles in Timbuktu

We've all seen articles on the internet with similar titles. Someone is a super successful VP of something, rolling in dough, but is oddly dissatisfied and starting to twitch from the overwhelming anxiety. They quit their job and move to a tropical island where they now sell ice cream and take long walks. They're happy as a clam, and money didn't get them there. Well, money got them their plane ticket there, and paid off their debts, bought them their beach-side bungalow, and gave them financial security to allow them the freedom to go hock their frosty treats to tourists, but you know, money didn't make them happy... but I digress. 

Unfortunately, my title was nothing but snark. I've not yet found myself in a six-figure salary role, else you know, I'd surely quit it. When I get there, I'll let you know. BUT meanwhile, I did quit my job!

Taking this show on the road! Come, plant!

Saying "quit" is far more dramatic than saying, "I got a new job." And to be honest, the masses respond much more favorable to "quit." Maybe it's the "don't let the man get you down" mentality running like a strong undercurrent through the middle classes. Or maybe it's the dream of all disgruntled lackeys chained to their desks in corporate America. Whatever it is, because I love me some solidarity, I made sure to tell everyone. The cashier at the dollar store, the lady at the pharmacy, receptionists of all shapes and sizes, the drive-thru guy: every stranger I had an excuse to talk to. 

Typically, when someone says, "Hi, how are you?" I'll respond with the standard polite, "Fine thanks, I'd like two cheeseburgers." Not the past two weeks. The past two weeks I went for the shock factor. No one expects a response of, "Doing swell, I just quit my job!" Granted, some gave me the "you still need to pay me" suspicious look, but overall the response was more "good for you!" I got several high fives, and even more well wishes. Pretty sure some people were more excited than me even.

After my farewell happy hour, I made going-away treats.
The cupcakes were blue, since I knew everyone would be sad to see me go #Ego
OR they were blue because I made them after happy hour #BoozeyBaking

So what did I learn from quitting my job and making a fresh start? I'll keep it quick:

• Sometimes the grass is greener. Life's too short. Take the leap. 
• That weight on your shoulders? It's not the world, it's your perception. Don't be a beast of burden. Check it each day at 5 o'clock, it's okay. Your health will thank you. So will your friends and family. Stress shouldn't be the third wheel in your relationships, or ride shotgun. It should be stuffed in the trunk or left on the side of the road. If you're at the right place, they'll support that.
• The baby birds can fly on their own. You can't always help them. And if they can't fly, well... Darwinism? 
• True colors show brightest during those final two weeks. The wheat will separate from the chaff. You'll figure out who's worth keeping. 
• Don't burn out before deciding to move on. Shine on. 
• Making new friends and meeting new people feels oddly foreign the older you get. It shouldn't. It's exciting. I highly recommend it. In general, people are just plain nice. 

Someday, I'll look back in my autobiography to the stat of this chapter, a chapter preceded by frustration and bitterness, and will smile at the title: The Turning Point. Cheers to new beginnings, dear friends. Cue the Frank Sinatra.

Regrets, I've had a few, 

but then again, too few to mention.