✌️ I’ve wanted to write about quitting my job for a while

Just about 14 months ago I quit my job. Then, two months later, I quit again.

I had worked at the same organization since 2014. A great place, I really loved it, and this isn’t really about them. I felt I needed a change, so I went out and applied to some jobs. I’m in the suburbs of NYC, so jobs in the city were completely on the table.

After the interview processes wrapped up, I was offered a position with a new organization that, while feeling a little start-up-ish, was incredibly organized, well-resourced, and committed to their mission (all of this is taking place in the non-profit performing arts space).

I accepted the position, gave my employer my notice (it turned out to be just two weeks since they wanted me to start soon), had some tearful goodbyes with my colleagues (many of whom are still my good friends), and prepared for my first day at a new job in nearly a decade.

Reader, when I tell you that I LOVED this new job, it’s not an overstatement. For a non-profit arts organization, they were organized, process-focused, polite, friendly, welcoming, blah blah blah. Truly some of the best people working in the best place.

But there’s always a kicker, isn’t there? At the time I took the job, my wife was just about 8 months pregnant (non-trigger-warning, baby is happy, healthy, and fine and nothing bad has ever happened to him, nor will it ever) and I was so excited to be a dad. I mentioned this to our HR team on my first day there (didn’t wanna bring it up during the interview process) and they, of course, were so supportive!

They were all so happy for me, explained our leave policy and how it would work, and helped me tell the rest of the team. This was on day 1! Well, reader, let me tell you — this wouldn’t be the last conversation I had with HR. Flash-forward to the end of day 2 — I’m having a panic attack calling my wife as I explain to her that I need to quit this job.

You see, for the second day in a row, I started my morning with a 20-minute drive to the train station. After parking and walking over to the tracks (another 5 minutes) I waited about 10 minutes for the train to leave. The train was an express, so I got to Grand Central in just about 50 minutes. Then, I grabbed a Citi bike and made the 27-minute bike ride to the office. After docking my bike, I had about a 5 minute stroll in to the office.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I LOVE this amount of transit in my life. Trains AND bikes in one day? I could die happy. And yet, when I did the math, I was clocking in at just under 2-hours of commuting EACH WAY. Then the real kicker came at work. We started clarifying our schedules (being a new org, no one had held these positions there before since they didn’t exist, so we needed to do the building work of templating schedules, etc) and I realized that my normal work day would likely be a 12pm-8pm shift.

Now, in the arts world, this makes a ton of sense — it allows for enough “admin work hours” while still making sure everyone is available leading up to the start of evening shows (and fully covering matinees). But it also meant that on a “normal” day, I wouldn’t be getting home until 10 (let alone if I ever had to stay late) given my commute. With a baby on his way, this meant not being home for dinner or bedtime. Not being around to pick him up from daycare or see any of his concerts or games when he got older. Just generally, not being there. I had absolutely no interest in being an absent father, especially for a nonprofit arts salary (which again, was fairly competitive for the industry, but it’s not an industry that likes livable wages).

Now, this was no one’s fault. I’d say the job posting wasn’t 100% clear about the hours, but it was almost to be expected, given the newness of everything. I had asked during the interview, got a “let me check” and then I never followed up. So, that’s on me. But either way, it wasn’t about blame. It was about my next steps.

I’ll spare you all the details about the HR conversations I had (though I vaguely remember repeating the phrases “I love working here” and “I have to quit ASAP” quite a lot) and of the panic-calls trying to find a new job (though if anyone wants to chat about either of those topics, hit me up). But I will say that my last day at this org was a year ago, and while I learned so much there so quickly and really cherished getting to work with those people, I’m so glad to have the work-life balance I have now. I work fully remote (which has its own challenges, for another thread) and I’ve gotten to see my son grow up. I was around when his teeth came in, when he started crawling, and when he said “dada” for the first time (disclaimer: it was “dadadadada”, but I’ll take it). I can’t imagine A world where I come home every night just to find him asleep. Where I don’t get to play with him, make him dinner, go on walks or give him baths. No, this is so good.

I don’t know what the point of this was. I had wanted to write this down for a while, but I don’t think there’s a moral. Ask the right questions in interviews? Make faster transit systems? Love your kid? Who knows.