It’s a special day.
Today marks 12 months since I asked my manager if I could have a meeting, so I could deliver a three-part life update.
- I’ve got another baby on the way
- I’m moving to Nottingham
- I’m leaving this job
While the first wasn’t that surprising to anyone, the second caused a gasp, and the final one was inevitable if I was heading over 100 miles away.
All change. Four weeks to go, and I haven’t even found the new place we’re going to live.
The craziest thing was that I didn’t even quite hand my notice in on that day. Instead, I just gave a warning that it was happening, and a request that he would be able to sort me out with a reference as and when it’s required from my as-yet-to-be-found landlord.
Leaving work wasn’t some spur of the moment decision. It wasn’t because I didn’t like my job. The reason I left is because I knew it was the only way to properly own my own time, and spend time with my family while my child (and one on the way) were small. It was two years in the making. The only part that we hadn’t planned (even 14 months prior) was that we would be leaving London at the very same time.
Allow me to just re-live the events that followed.
I picked my timing to leave my job perfectly, because it was a time of complete disarray at the office. The week after my announcement, the company’s head office was going from five floors of its building to four, meaning hundreds of people (including my team) would be relocated to a floor didn’t particularly have room for newcomers.
It was messy. They decided the best way to deal with this was to introduce hotdesking, a massively unpopular move when people are in unfamiliar surroundings and were previously sat in their teams for a reason. Again, this worked perfectly for me. I could just disappear amid the madness.
In this time of disorder, it was pretty much established that there were no rules. Any work that had to be done could be sidelined until things were more settled; ideal conditions for someone preparing to work for themselves and their online business. The person I was managing was devastated by the news, and I vowed to help as much as I could while I was there, but I just made sure she took care of anything I would otherwise have to do.
In the three weeks I spent on the fourth floor, I hadn’t told anyone that my laptop refused to connect to the work servers, meaning I couldn’t access any work documents. It was yet another incentive to do whatever else I needed to do. On top of all that, it was a quiet time of the year. How can it get any better than this?
The only problem I had at that time was finding somewhere to live. I made at least six trips up to Nottingham during this time for viewings (during that February of snow), meetings with landlords and whatever else, until we finally found the massive garden-having, office-containing, driveway-joined 4-bedroom home that we ended up with.
The rest is all documented on this here blog.