Why I Quit My Job
TDLR; I wasn’t making enough money and wanted to spend more time with these cuties.
If you know me in real life (which you probably do since the only people who read this are my mom and like two friends) you likely know where I used to work. While it’s unlikely you don’t know me, it is still very easy to find out where I used to work. And I want to make it very clear—I have nothing but respect and support for my former coworkers and the organization. My criticism is not toward them but toward the system—corporate America, the patriarchy, the impossible expectations of moms.
When I interviewed for my job I was nine months pregnant and had sworn to my therapist (who I was seeing for insane prenatal anxiety) that I would stop spending all the time I should have been nesting scouring job boards, searching for a job that would bring me meaning. “You’re about to have a baby,” she would repeat to me. “That is more than enough meaning.”
But then I saw it. My perfect job posted in a Facebook group I often lurked. I won’t go into the ways it was perfect for me (which it was and is why I got it). The reason why it wasn’t perfect is the reason why I quit: the pay.
It was right there in the Facebook post and ironically at the time I felt like it was one of the reasons why it was perfect for me.
“Not gonna lie when I say the salary is a little on the low side and will not get you even close to owning that Tesla you dream of,” the post read, “but the reward of working with an amazing nonprofit that's growing at a rapid pace is priceless.”
My husband was the family breadwinner. Who cares if I wasn’t making millions or even enough to pay off my student loans? As a soon-to-be new mom my priority was going to be my baby and I didn’t need to worry about getting paid. At least as a white, privileged, upper/middle class, educated, woman that is what I had been groomed by society to believe.
So in my interview when they asked if I was OK with the pay I went on and on about how I was so lucky my husband’s job financially provided for us and I was looking for a job that gave me meaning and allowed me to use my brain. Pay was not an issue.
I know. I’m mad at myself too.
For the three and a half years I worked there I loved it. I was making a difference, learning so much, using my brain in ways I didn’t even know I could, and I felt like I was paying my dues so I could eventually get a job that paid a real salary. But by December 2020, living in the middle of a pandemic, I had a toddler and an infant. We also had a toy room, a zoo membership, an aquarium membership, a car with two carseats, strollers, college funds to fund, daycare tuition, and lots of hospital bills. Life was very different than when I was nine months pregnant and my only responsibility was to do my 4-7-8 breathing to reduce my anxiety and not job search for hours. How had I not thought this through?
The day the camel’s back broke was over a daycare charge. I needed more time to work so I asked to bring Wavey in for a drop-in day at a rate of $100. A fee that I wouldn’t cover by working all day. Mid morning it hit me. Not only was I essentially paying to work, but I was also paying to spend less time with my kids.
“I’m quitting my job,” I said across the room to my mom and my husband Mitchell. “I’m quitting,” I repeated, simultaneously convincing and shocking myself. “I can’t do it anymore. I’m not getting paid enough to spend this much time away from the girls.”
My mom and Mitchell looked at me wide eyed, unsure if I was serious and if I was how to appropriately respond. They knew I loved my job and had been incredibly supportive of me considering the lack of credible pay, but I knew they had also been impatiently waiting for this day to come.
The next day I gave my boss the news, my mom gave me flowers, and Mitchell, the baby and I went out for celebratory beers. I was really quitting.
At the time, the feeling that I was prioritizing my ill-paying job over my kids was the main reason why I left. Now I know it’s much more complicated than that. Now I realize I was part of the problem. By begging for an under-paying job I was only aiding the gender pay gap.
I don’t blame my coworkers or the organization. It’s a nonprofit and nonprofit’s are notoriously underfunded and under pay employees. But now I recognize that even though my family doesn’t need me to make market rate so we can pay our mortgage, it doesn't mean that I shouldn’t make what my skill set, education and experience warrant.
That’s the same for you. For all moms. For all women. Our work has value. Don’t work for less than what you believe that value is. And then double it.
