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152. Quitting your job

Giving an official notice to leave something is awkward. How do you tell your awesome manager that you’re leaving? It feels like breaking up, and they never expect it.

I’ve quit jobs by both on the spot, and with adequate notice. Few have felt nice, but some have been really bad to leave. You’d be surprised!


I quit working at a fast food restaurant by giving my two week notice, and without any sign of me leaving. I had gotten a little award thing for saying my lines and behaving properly when customers would get pissed. When I told my manager, I felt horrible for creating the trouble of finding a new person to cover, since the whole hiring process kinda sucks for hiring managers. He looked at me, and I told him I left my letter on his desk. It didn’t feel all satisfying, like people usually say it feels like.


I worked at the office of a huge douche lawyer, and as soon as I got my check (no lag time), I left. I also left the reports that he wanted ready for him on his desk, sorted by alphabetical order, and to a really high level of detail. When I didn’t return, he called me, and I didn’t answer. He was a pretty screwed up guy. That actually felt really cool.

But how do you work at a place that has your two-weeks notice already? Isn’t it weird? Do you have any awesome quitting stories?


  1. I worked for a giant business for seven years. I did very well – was sent around to remodel a few stores as well as “fix” one from the inside out. Then I transferred to my last one.

    My boss and I didn’t get along from day one. He’s the type of manager who needs his hand held to answer an email. This was the exact opposite of the stores I was used to working in; ones where everyone was running around doing things fast. So we butted heads a lot. It’s probably a testament to how inept he is that it took him three years to get my head on the chopping block.

    (At that point I had given up on trying to make it work. I was getting good responses when I sent resumes out, so I was confident I wouldn’t be unemployed long. )

    So as he was in the office going through the motions of my final write-up, I was dutifully refusing to play along. Wouldn’t sign any documents, but demanding copies of them anyway. (Which naturally he didn’t have ready though copies are required.) I took them, walked out to my car, grabbed a sheet of scrap paper, and wrote “On 4:30PM [blahblahblah – a date two weeks from the day] 2013 you will have to find a new punching bag.” Dated it and signed it. Walked back in and threw it in the HR’s mailbox before realizing that I had a Sharpie in the car which I could use to rewrite it on a roll of toilet paper.

    Was called into the HR’s office, with the store manager sitting in, the following Monday as my closing email the night before had ended with “only 11 days left!” They couldn’t figure out what I was cryptically referring to. I was disturbed because if the two week notice hadn’t reached her, then the clock would start again. I asked if she had received my notice. “This one?” HR asked pointing to the tiny folded paper on her desk. I didn’t work with the brightest people.

    Spent the next two weeks just having a blast. Supervisors would tell me to do things, I’d give them the least convincing “okay” possible. Anyone who wanted a day off or an extra break could have them. Was reprimanded for taking extended breaks myself (“ShenaniTims, it appears you spent 45 minutes on your 30 minute lunch break. Why was that?” “Sorry, I was eating yogurt.”) I also noticed that they had me scheduled to close on my last shift (230-11) despite the fact that my notice clearly noted that I’d work til 430; an exact two weeks from when I’d dropped it off.

    So I showed up at 230, didn’t say a word about it to anyone in power (my friends knew, and bless them, kept their mouths closed to watch the show). Clocked in, said good-bye to everyone, cleaned out a trash can full of bloody paper towels, went into the HR’s office, and threw my keys on her desk.

    “Is this how you want to end it?,” she asked.

    “I said 430, and I meant 430.” Turned around and walked…

    Right into my douchebag manager who had no clue what had happened. He shook my hand and wished me luck on all future endeavors in spite of the fact that he was the one who caused this. Probably didn’t notice me clock out right behind him either.

    Received a phone call the following Monday from my current boss offering me the position.

    May 26, 2014
    • That. Is. Awesome. BAM! #LikeABoss! That dude had it coming, good for you.

      I wish to have my own story like that someday… the nerve. Hahaha

      May 27, 2014

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