Leaving a job (Plan G)

Probably, you have seen the concise job resignation letter doing the rounds on social media. Date. Reference. Salutation. Body (just two words: bye bye). Signature. That could never be me. I wrote a two pager essay, listing a myriad of complaints (either unsweetened or too sugary tea, now missing at 4pm; breach of trust; unpaid NHIF (medical premiums) dues; micro-management – in all, giving specific dates and instances). On revision of the same, I thanked the company for my time there and noted that it was time for new challenges.

Anyway, I was just sick of the job. Literally sick… a chest X-ray (nothing wrong with my lungs), slightly exaggerated blood pressure, fatigue heading to mild depression… My colleagues were exceptional, but it is true when they say that employees don’t leave a bad job, rather, a bad boss. On close and dispassionate reflection now, I am partly to blame. I could have been more assertive, spoken out sooner against infringement of my rights as an industrious worker… my side of the story.

The three-month notice I had given was up, only for me to be convinced to stay on for another month. Of course, the inner politician in me took over as it does when I am under stress: overpromising. Now, here I was, having promised to stay on for three more months until the year was ended. A week in, I knew I was lucky if I could hang in there till pay day. Still, end month happened to be on a Friday and pay was done on that date, unlike the normal fifth or sixth of the starting month. The time was 3pm, two hours to close of business. Then and there, I left for home, having incrementally cleared my desk the previous month. I had suffered for far too long.

Experts have it that you should have six months’ worth of expenditures (rent, living expenses, etc.) to tide you over as savings before leaving a job. Well, I was not going to collapse and die on someone’s business premises. Then, I had adopted a Kikuyu gospel tune as my mantra (Nii nyumagaraga, ndihokete Ngai no ekuhe - As I sojourn for the day, my faith is in the Lord for my providence), with similar sentiments to the chorus below:

(Chorus)

Elohi tembea, tembea nami
Usiku wa kiza, tembea nami
Jua kucha-kutwa, tembea nami
Nikiwa nayo pumzi, tembea nami.

(Elohim walk with me
In the dark of night, walk with me
As the sun shines and sets, walk with me
As long as I have breath in me, walk with me).

Anyway, life did become very interesting after leaving the job without a backup plan (Plan B, in local lingo). Still, I had come to trust more in the Lord for my providence (Plan God). And let me tell you Maina… He doesn’t disappoint. Even in the case of serial sinners like me.

Comments

My Once-Molly (Political versus Business Ethics),

Dear Molly. How are you? As always, I hope you are well. You know, there is something about you, something that made me inspire for better. Was it that rich smokers’ laughter of yours? The daring twinkle that flashed in your eyes when you were angry? The tight curl in your lips when you were about to lash out? Anyway, Molly, I continue with my business training. I am now thinking of business as warfare – the honourable kind of warfare; chivalry, observing the rules… not the Machiavellian 48-Laws-of-Power warfare where there is no honour, but only winning. Politics of deceit, our president calls it. Well, these past couple of days have been chilly… a precursor to June’s biting cold? Anyway, I am more often sad than happy during the cold months of June and July. I totally blame this on Sam Kahiga’s short story, ‘The Last Breath’ – if my memory serves me right. Off the ‘Encounters from Africa’ anthology. There is a way he made June and July sad. Pretty much like you wouldn’t tai...

My Once-Molly (The Job To Be Done),

My dear Molly, how are you? I hope you are good. I am well as well can be, with the flooding, the inflation, and all. Anyway, grapevine (or maybe, I am a stalker) has it that you are nowadays into the beauty business. Very soon, I too will be emulating you. We may be compatible at all, conquer the world together as business icons. My dear Molly, it may interest you to know that I am doing business training – my bank, UBA, and its founder, Tony Elumelu, is that special. Always seeking to empower African entrepreneurs. The excellent thing about the training is that it is very practical to today’s and the coming future business needs. As a matter of course, we also are directed to additional reading to widen our entrepreneurial minds. The Job To Be Done. Clayton M. Christensen. In the words of Johnny Nash, ‘I can see clearly now that the rain is gone. I can see all obstacles on my way…’ What a beauty this is! It is something you should look up, understand what is it you are selling to...

My-Once Molly (Praying for a Rainbow),

Dear Molly, I hope you are ok and are keeping safe in these floods. As for me, I am heartbroken. I am in pain. My mind, my body, my spirit aches. I am numb with grief. As is the nation of Kenya. The picture just won’t get out of our minds – the father, trudging stoically, his dead, muddy son slung over his shoulder. It’s a devastating image… the screams, elsewhere, as a boat capsizes, the swollen river swallows a lorry… Izrael has visited the land. Dear Molly, a while back, the nation faced drought. Then, images of dead livestock, emaciated men, women and children, parched, cracked earth, haunted our screens. Elsewhere where there was a glut in food production, the farmers cried for their fellow starving countrymen. They demanded for lorries to traverse the rutted roads and take the produce to their brethren… collectively, we prayed for rain. Dear Molly... will we ever catch a break as Kenya? The Covid-19 pandemic that paralysed lives and livelihoods in 2020 as we recovered from th...

Upya Fresh

Search This Blog