Resigned…or not?

Today I gave my resignation at my job.   Then my boss gave it back.


How could I get this so wrong? 

I thought it was simple – you write a letter saying that you don’t want a job anymore, you wait the agonising time it takes for the really difficult boss to leave so that you get time to talk to the nice one.  Then you get the courage up to utter the telltale words of ‘um…Mike, could I have a wee chat with you please?’ only to then have the awkward moment of trying to find an unoccupied room in a very large and busy office.


So I put it to him like this:

Me: “so, Mike. I’m really sorry but it’s just not working out. I’m not happy in the job and I really don’t think it’s the right one for me; perhaps even the organisation is just not right for me”.  (an encouraging nod from Mike makes me continue, perilously, on this journey of quitterdom) 

Along the lines of:

“don’t feel like i’m getting anything out of this position…hate coming to work everyday…not giving it my best..role isn’t the right one for me…” etc…


Short but sweet. I thought this was quite a good speech to have made up on the spot.   


So how come, three-quarters of an hour later I’m non the wiser as to whether I have actually handed in my notice or not!?  I remember something about having to ‘wait’,  and maybe a little ‘see how things pan out’  followed by a few ‘good opportunity’ lines thrown in for good measure.  Add to this a general feeling of being 12 years old, realising that you’ve lost your train of thought and can’t even remember your own name and you’re just about where I was at the end of this meeting.


Have I quit or have I not?  I have absolutely no idea.


So confused.  Here’s a picture of Pingu to make it all seem better.



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