Finally leaving a job you hate takes a lot of courage. Embarking on a new journey in the workforce is truly scary because of the uncertainty that lies ahead, but a terrible job with a crummy boss is bound to make anyone take that leap of faith if it means escaping. For some people, resisting the urge to express pent-up anger flies out the window in the blissful moment of handing in their notice of resignation. In these stories, people share the ballsy things they’ve said during their final moments on the job.
All stories have been edited for clarity.
Bon Voyage!
“I worked for a one-man gardening business. One time, I came to work five minutes late on a Monday. My boss at the time became very agitated and told me I was to lose an hour’s pay.
The next day, I worked a shift that was miles from home. My coworker and I ended up working an extra hour to get the job done, rather than coming back the next day.
Now on the following Saturday, I was aware that my boss was going on his first vacation in over twenty years. This was only possible because he finally had enough people hired to cover his shifts.
On Friday night, my boss presented my paycheck. Looking over it, I saw that my boss cut one hour from Monday, but did not pay me for the hour extra I worked on Tuesday. When I confronted my boss, he simply shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘I don’t pay for overtime’.
I looked at him and forced a smile. After he signed off on my check, I accepted my wages, wished him a great holiday, and left. My boss was flying to Spain at eleven in the morning on Saturday morning. I imagined him hauling all his luggage behind him like a happy-go-lucky child in a park, smiling to himself as he prepared for his ‘much deserved’ time away from the grind.
That’s when I decided to give him a call.
When my boss answered, I could hear the roar of the crowded airport in the background. His voice was urgent but polite as he inquired about my reason for calling him. Matching his tone, I announced that I was quitting on the spot and would not cover any of the contracts scheduled for the next two weeks.
His vacation was ruined. He lost his flights and would no longer be able to make it to his hotel booking. As he complained, his misgivings went through one ear and out the other. Once he was done griping about his soiled vacation plans because of my unexpected departure, I said without a moment’s hesitation, ‘Treat your employees unfairly, and this is what happens.’
I started a new role at a new company the following Monday.”
“That’s Not My Problem”
“I was twenty-six, a single parent of my then seven-year-old son, a survivor of a very abusive and violent relationship with his father, and trying to make ends meet.
I had been working at the technical service desk of Samsung Netherlands via an American company for around a year.
Despite the long days and time-consuming commuting times that kept me away from home eleven hours a day, I liked the team and the work. All of my colleagues were hardworking and entertaining individuals to be around. Over time, I was introduced to more in-depth knowledge about a large variety of products via Samsung’s fantastic product managers.
However, the company managing the service desk was a completely different story. Anyone who ever worked on a service desk knows that time and productivity are strictly managed. But this company took it to a whole different level.
They kept pushing my co-workers and me to increase productivity. For example, the company started cutting the allowed time to be on the phone with sometimes complicated technical issues to unrealistic levels. In their mindset, service, and quality had to suffer to meet unrealistic corporate goals.
They introduced a maximum toilet time, which decreased shortly after. In addition to that, employees were actively timed by the managers and publicly scolded if they exceeded it even by half a minute. It didn’t matter if someone needed more time. Employees were expected to comply at all times.
In the Netherlands, all children have six weeks off from school in the summer and being a single parent with a small social circle and even smaller family, I always struggled to cover these weeks for my son.
This year, my son had to stay four weeks with his grandparents, who would take him with them on their vacation. Two weeks of my own vacation I would be able to spend with him myself. I requested my vacation time months ahead, and it was approved.
Two weeks before my vacation started, my manager approached me and stated my off time was canceled because they would be understaffed during the said period. I looked at him in disbelief.
I explained to him it would be impossible for me to come to work as I need to care of my son. The manager then stated that I should let someone else care for him, with an air of having invented logical thinking himself. My explanation that there was no such person met deaf ears. My argument that I requested my off time months before, did not matter.
I felt helpless and cornered. I could feel my anxiety growing in my throat. ‘So… what do you expect me to do?”‘ I asked him directly.
‘That’s not my problem,‘ my manager said in a harsh tone. ‘You will come to work as you’re told.‘
The silence that followed was thick and heavy. My mind was racing.
‘What did you say?‘ I asked again. The conversation felt completely surreal to me.
‘That’s not my problem.‘ My manager sneered as he repeated the same words just as harshly.
At that moment something snapped in me. My kind and agreeable nature tilted deep inside of me and subsided for my anger. I took off my badge, and pushed it in his hand with the words, ‘Then it’s not my problem anymore either,‘ I turned around and started walking away.
From behind me I could hear him calling after me. My manager yelled after me, ‘No said you can leave!’ His words barely registered because my mind and body were focused on one thing:
Getting out of there.
On the way home, panic struck when the realization kicked in of what just happened and the consequences of my actions. I knew that it was going to be very tough, but at the same time I had a sense of pride in myself, that for once, I had dared to stand up for myself.
This happened thirteen years ago and since then, I have grown professionally and mentally. I’ve been an employee, a manager, and a leader, and I’ve tried to be better. People deserve better than to be a pawn in the hands of those who lead them.”
Play Stupid Games, Win Stupid Prizes
“When I was in college, my roommate got a job waiting tables at a restaurant that was about a half hour away from our college town. He told me he made about sixty bucks for an eight-hour shift. Considering that most jobs we could get at the time paid the minimum wage of about three bucks and some change an hour, sixty bucks was pretty decent money. I eventually put in an application and became a waiter at the same restaurant for the rest of our sophomore year.
By the beginning of Junior year, my roommate quit, so I was the only college student left working there. In that time frame, a new manager had been hired. He made a rule that stated everyone had to get their work schedules in person instead of calling and asking.
Since I had a thirty-minute drive, I continued to call and ask for my shifts because it was much more convenient on days when the new schedule was published. One week, the new manager took my call and told me I was opening on both Saturday and Sunday. This disappointed me because opening meant coming in at six in the morning. The issue was I also played in a band that was performing that Friday night. That meant I would be up until at least two-thirty in the morning.
I had to suck it up. I woke up tired and showered the smell of cigarettes off me before driving the thirty minutes to work. When I walked in, the new manager started laughing.
He laughed even harder when he saw my dazed and confused face. He then told me to go check the schedule like I should have done in person. When I did, it took all my might not to strangle my boss.
I saw that instead of opening, I was actually closing Saturday and Sunday nights.
My boss chuckled and then said, ‘Maybe next time you should get your schedule in person like everyone else.’
I looked down at my brown polyester pants for a moment. Then I untied my apron and unclipped the bow tie on my shirt. I handed them to him and simply said, ‘I quit’ before walking out the front door.
The look on my boss’ face was priceless. His effort to teach me a lesson had backfired.
I drove back to my house and watched Saturday morning cartoons until my roommates woke up so I could tell them the story.
I never quit another job like that but I must admit it felt pretty good.”
Signed And Delivered
“I was a waitress at a truck stop while I was still in high school. One night I forgot to clock out because I had to deal with a table full of drunks who were giving me a hard time.
The next day, I asked my manager to sign my time card because it was required any time we forgot to clock out. My manager paused a moment before she said, ‘Okay. What time did you leave?’
‘It was around 11:15 or 11:20,’ I told her. ‘I couldn’t get away at 11:00 like I was supposed to because of that table full of rowdies I got stuck with.’
My manager’s next choice of words was like a slap in the face.
‘I left here at 11:05, and nobody from my shift was still here,’ she said matter-of-factly. Then my manager wrote ’11:00′ on my time card, signed it, and handed it back to me.
I was furious. At the time, I was earning a lousy two bucks an hour plus tips. The extra fifteen minutes would have amounted to mere pennies. It was how my manager called me a liar to my face that made my blood boil.
I threw my time card back on the table where she was sitting .
‘Go ahead and write the time for right now onto my card, because I’m leaving. I’m not gonna take the time to clock out.’
Without waiting for a response, I stormed to the locker room to change. As I was leaving, my manager approached me.
‘One of the other waitresses just told me what you said was true. I apologize. You can change back into your uniform and get back to work,’ my manager said in a condescending tone.
‘You can kiss my ass,’ I told her, throwing my uniform onto the floor.
This manager actually did me a favor. I had pretty much decided against going to college, because my parents weren’t going to help pay and I was nervous about taking out student loans. This incident made me decide I was going to do whatever it took to get through college because I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life getting treated like crap while working terrible jobs for little pay.
Till this day, if I ever crossed paths with this manager again, I would still tell her to kiss my ass.”