Why I Quit My Job & What’s Next

Being an adult is stressful, this is a well known fact. We get up every day and go to an unfulfilling job, working scheduled hours that we hate, to pay bills for things we don’t really need but convince ourselves that we do. All that just to never use or see them because we are always working.

I have been working at a major chain salon since I became licensed in 2014. When I first started, I was fresh out of beauty school, nervous as hell and didn’t have a clue what the industry was about. I knew the basics, obviously. I knew highlights were always in fashion and blondes have more fun (except for bold red heads, like my freshly colored self). What I did not know however, was the underlying cut throat pettiness that comes from some of the men and women in this industry.

Don’t get me wrong, cosmetology is an awesome, lucrative field with some amazing men and women who are in this field for the right reasons. Those are the people I admire and the people I wanted to be when I first entered the field. What I ended up with though, was working a full time job, with crazy hours, shitty pay and nothing to show for it. Even worse, the manager I was working under is not an ideal person to work for if you want to leave your self worth intact. After almost four years with the company, I did exactly what my mother would have a heart attack over. I quit.

I put my two weeks notice in, without another job lined up, and just said “screw it”. I knew how much of a bad idea that was. I knew I was going to have to figure out how to pay my bills. I also had zero job prospects lined up. I was in a sense starting from scratch.

Over the next few days that led up to the point of this article, I thought long and hard about what I want out of this life. I’ve always been kind of a wanderlust. A person with a taste for life outside of time constraints and nine to five jobs just to go to sleep and do it all over again. I know realistically I’ll be getting another job I’ll probably hate again in a year or so, but this time, I have a plan.

After five minutes of deliberation and a “you only live once” attitude, I called my mom and told her I’m moving to San Diego in July. I don’t have a job lined up there either. I’m scared out of my mind, for the record. I don’t know what I will be doing in a year’s time, let alone in three months time when I’m actually residing in California, but I’ve realized that it’s okay. I’ve always lived complacently in a box of certainty knowing that no matter what I was in a fail safe place living in this sweet old state of Virginia. But safe is boring. Safe is uneventful, unfulfilling and depressing. Safe is not the way I want to live.

So while a lot of people (or probably just my mom) will read this and say, “This chick is psycho”. You’re right, but I’m psycho in the best way.

Peace out Virginia, you can find me soaking up the sun on the West Coast.



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