To Quit or Not to Quit

Have you ever experienced a feeling of dread on a Sunday evening as you climbed into bed and realized, “Oh no. Tomorrow is Monday… AGAIN.”

I’ve certainly been there, although not too many times. Whenever that feeling of dread lasted more than a few weeks, I knew instinctively it was time to make a move. But before jumping out of the frying pan into the fire, I had to first diagnose the real problem.

The first time I ever faced such a dilemma was when I was four years into my initial career as a fashion designer. A vendor, of all people, told me I didn’t belong in the industry. What a wakeup call that was.

At that point in my career, I had already resigned from two jobs—each time to follow my young Naval Officer husband when his ship changed duty stations. Because there was no technology enabling people to work remotely back then, I had little choice but to quit jobs I truly loved because my husband was my top priority. It’s always been my mantra to stay true to my beliefs.     

Eventually I settled into my third design job—one I loved even more than the first two—designing junior women’s swimwear. I fully expected to be there for the long term.   

What I most enjoyed about this job was that I had the opportunity to design the fabrics used to make my creations. Back then, all the big-name textile design houses were in New York City.  Twice a year I would fly from my studio in Southern California to New York to work with the textile artists on my seasonal color schemes and fabric layouts for my summer and winter (cruise) lines. I enjoyed the hustle, bustle, and glamour of walking down Fifth Avenue on my way from my hotel to the (seedier) Garment and Textile Districts of Midtown Manhattan.

On one such trip, I arrived early for my morning appointment with one of the textile studios. The receptionist suggested I wait in the art room while the artist finished up the meeting she was in. I ended up waiting for over an hour. Meanwhile, I heard all kinds of commotion down the hall. Multiple people were involved in a very loud argument. There was much stamping from room to room and slamming of doors.

Mind you, I was employed by husband-and-wife business owners who themselves occasionally engaged in loud arguments and door-slamming, so I was somewhat accustomed to such practices. At least when in my own office, I could close my door and tune my desk radio dial to some soothing music to block the noises of battle. 

When the textile artist I was waiting to meet finally came flying into the room, she was still cussing under her breath about “that S.O.B. down the hall.” Apparently not expecting me to already be sitting there, her angry facial expression instantly turned to one of embarrassment. She paused for a moment, pursed her lips and exclaimed in exasperation, “I’m late and I don’t have much time. What are you here for this time?!”   

Empathetic to her predicament, I politely replied, “I can come back tomorrow if you would prefer.”

“Tomorrow?!” she wailed in disbelief.

“Yes, I can make time tomorrow afternoon before my flight out. I can see this isn’t a good time for you,” I stated softly. 

The disheveled crone stared wildly at me, as though I was an alien from another galaxy. I smiled back and kindly offered, “Perhaps tomorrow will be a better day for you.”

With that, she plopped herself down on the art stool opposite me and growled, “Honey, you need to find yourself another job. You’re too nice to make it in this business.”

Her exhortation took me by complete surprise.

My long flight home the next evening gave me much-needed quiet time alone to thoughtfully consider her admonishment. I continued to ruminate on the artist’s advice about my job and the industry for several weeks thereafter.

Eventually I concluded that the haggard, yet astute textile artist was right. While I loved the creative aspects of my job, the culture of the industry was not a good match for me. I was like a square peg in a round hole, force-fitting myself into an environment that didn’t reflect who I was or what I believed in. Who knows how long it might have taken for me—left to my own devices—to figure it all out, if not for the brash textile artist who simply pointed out what was glaringly obvious to her.

I finally came to accept her discernment: I would never fit in that kind of culture. I needed to move on to a role in an environment where I could make the most of my strong suits and be happy.

It took me a while to define a going-forward strategy, but I eventually quit my job and went back to school to finish my undergraduate degree and obtain my MBA. That turned out to be one of the best decisions I ever made.

As the lyrics of the song, The Gambler, say, “You got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away and know when to run.”

Whenever you find things aren’t working out the way you planned, or when things just don’t feel right with your personal life or career, take a step back and try to analyze why that is. Look in the mirror and ask yourself, “Is it me or the organization or both? What is it that I don’t enjoy about my job? Why am I not getting along with these people? Is the culture here a mismatch with my personal beliefs?” Be honest with yourself.

Before making rash decisions to quit any important relationship, thoughtfully consider the potential causes of your discontent. It’s far easier to change a role that doesn’t align with your strong suits than it is to force fit yourself into a culture or lifestyle that runs afoul of your personal mission, vision, and/or values.  

As a heartfelt leader, you’ve always got to be prepared to make changes. Make a habit of routinely re-evaluating whether you and those on your team are in the right place.  

You may need to change roles and responsibilities. You may need to help certain people move along. You might be the one who needs to move along. Done for the right reasons and in the right manner, quitting isn’t a sign of weakness or failure. It’s a sign of maturity and strength.     

When all else fails, smile, use your imagination, and try a different approach.