Leaving on a jet plane

"All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go..."

At least that's how the song went, if I'm not mistaken. Finally, the time has come to leave. What happens when you lose your interest and motivation in your job? You've been doing the same thing for 3 years and due to turbulent organizational changes, you had had to take extra management responsibility when your manager left. Not only you have to establish instant authority and credibility in front of your internal clients, who turn instantly into packs of crazy hyenas - more loud and scavenging than any external clients imaginable - you also need to work totally independantly. Your headquarters unit, halfway across the world from you, totally forgot that they were still paying some paltry salary to a staff member here in the Asia region. 3 years after that world-shaking event, headquarters finally got shaken and stirred more than Bond's vodka martini, and as the heads roll off at the guilliotine, they suddenly remember you. They now have an easier job for you. You no longer need to assume management responsibility. You now will report to a Tom in China, and while you both report to a Dick in Europe, you yourself need to report to a local Harry a few floors above you, who's totally clueless about what you do, by the way.

You lose interest. The challenge in your work is gone. You force yourself to slog on the best you can until it takes a toll on your health. Your neck gets stiff (and not because you swallowed a Viagra and it got stuck there), you're down with flu every goddamn day, and you get abdominal cramps even when it's not THAT time of the month. You enjoy traveling, but an opportunity to meet the team in an exotic European city somehow didi not appeal to you. You freeze, and the toothache came. When you schedule for a wisdom tooth surgery that just prevents you from traveling to another lovely continent for a meeting, I suggest you look deep into your soul to find out what are your preferences in life.

So you talk to your team leader who flies down to your office to meet you. You seek guidance. You two talk, then the Tom walks up to consult the Harry sitting a few floors up. Then you get summoned to the throne room and the local Harry (or Harriette), facial hair bristling, tells you that since you've lost your motivation and inspiration to continue with this work that's so bloody easier and less challenging than what you did before she just couldnt understand what you're looking for, it's best that you resign. There's no way you and the organization can continue together.

What do you do? Beg for another opportunity to redeem yourself?

I didnt. I just nodded and agreed to resign. My letter will be on her desk on Jan 31. Later, Tom came down to my office and told me that they discussed an amount to pay me since they were the ones who asked me to resign. Whatever. I'm just tired. I'm tired of fighting. I dont feel the joy in fighting for every little scrap of task that I want to do because they were not originally delegated to me. I'm sick of it. I want my manager to do some work too. Identify my potential. Work with me to find out my interests and allocate tasks that motivate me into positive action. Things like that, you know? Sometimes, the best strategy to fight is to look deep and choose your battles. I have chosen mine and this is not it. The statement that the local boss made just trule demonstrated the senility and cluelessness that filled the head with cotton wool between the left and the right ears.

And tomorrow, I'll spend lunchtime in RedBox to belt out Air Supply and John Denver songs. The first will be "Leaving on a Jet Plane".

For now, it's bedtime.