Time for a change

Lately, I’ve been going through a bit of a rough patch. Call it what you like – hitting speed bumps, in a rut, down in the dumps. Perhaps a quarter-life crisis?

I don’t normally blog about my job because (1) I’d bore you to tears (it’s more likely that I would end up in tears) and (2) everything you write can be found on the Internet and I didn’t want to get fired. But I no longer have to worry about no. 2 because I have just resigned.

This was quite possibly the hardest decision I have ever made and for fear of no. 1, I won’t go into the details. But it was time to go. The problem was nothing else was in order to actually do that, meaning I didn’t have another job to go onto. So I tried stalling for a couple weeks. And things only got worse.

After some long talks and a lot of tears, we decided handing in my notice was the right thing for me to do. So, as of this past Tuesday, I am working my month’s notice and then I am out of there.

I could go into all the bad things. I could tell you what I didn’t like about the place. Some of you already know it anyway. But what really pushed me into making this decision?

Two things.

1) Two weeks ago, I was almost to the end of my long morning commute. On a good day, it takes just over an hour, door to door. On a bad day, it could take up to 2 hours. It was a bad day. The Victoria line was experiencing severe delays. It was extremely hot and stuffy on the train. It would stop for long periods of time in a tunnel and then when it would pull into a station, people would push onto the train, making it even more hot and stuffy. When we arrived at Kings Cross, two women pushed their way onto the train. They were both dressed in smart business suits. They both looked to be in their 40s. One of them positioned herself so that she could hold onto the pole. The other tried to get past. The other elbowed her. Then a full elbow fight broke out. “Excuse me! But I am getting on this train!” “Well, don’t push me off it!” And back and forth they went…these two professional businesswomen!

I just stood there, smushed in between a group of Italian tourists, trying to move my face every few seconds to get a breath of air. And I watched these two women and I thought to myself, What am I doing? Is this what I have to look forward to? Will this be me in 20 years? Will I be elbowing my way to get on a train, to get somewhere first, to get to the top?

2) When you don’t like your job, it’s very hard to get up in the morning. It’s even harder to do the commute. Last week, I missed my usual train by three minutes. So I had to kill time for 20 minutes and get the later train home. I walked to the last car, hoping it would be almost empty so I could have some peace and quiet for a few minutes before the rush of people got on. I made my way to the last row of seats and sat down. I looked next to me and there was a crumbled Times.

When I turned over the paper, I instantly recognized the columnist. Not because I ever read her or know her. But I was once mistaken for her and it has always stuck with me.

When I was studying in London in 2004, I did an internship with Reader’s Digest magazine. Probably the most exciting thing during my time there was the Christmas party they hosted at a restaurant in Harvey Nichols. The guests were a mix of writers, editors, celebrities, politicians and media contacts. They had prepared name tags for everyone and even me, the nobody-intern, got one.

I like to think I mingled with the best of them. At least I think I did pretty well for an intern. The canapes were delicious. The drinks were flowing. And I was probably the only intern not downing glasses of champagne in the corner.

Late into the evening, I noticed a woman smiling at me from across the room. She said something to the people she was standing next to and they all looked over at me and smiled. Then she rushed over to me.

She introduced herself and said, “I love all your work.”

It was very clear she had had too much to drink and she was sort of swaying back and forth. So I thought she was talking about Reader’s Digest work in general, not my work. I smiled politely and said, ‘Thanks.”

She went on and on. “I just love everything you do.”

Then my editor at Reader’s Digest stepped in and whispered to me, “She thinks you’re Caitlin Moran.“

Now, at the time, I had no clue who that was. But I can see where someone who had too much to drink and only glanced at my name tag could be mistaken. After all, my name tag had my maiden name : Caitlin Marvin.

I don’t know if that woman ever realized that she was talking to an American intern and not her favorite columnist, Caitlin Moran. But I will always remember that night and how I wished one day I could be at one of those parties and someone would see my name, recognize it and tell me they liked something I wrote.

I never read The Times and although I have never forgotten that Christmas party incident, I hadn’t thought about it much. Until I saw that paper. It got me thinking all over again and wondering what is next for me and what’s out there for me.

I have to believe that there is something better out there. I have to believe that even if I have to travel in cramped trains and spend time and money doing it, where I’m going is worth it.

And I realized I couldn’t say that about my current job.

These two incidents reminded me of what I really wanted to do and what I would be happy doing. Now, do I think I am going to get a job as a columnist? No. But maybe I could get a job where I had more time to write. Or a job where I felt I was able to build on my skills. Maybe I could get a job where I actually felt good about myself and what I was doing.

So, that’s my news. Now it’s time for me to go elbow my way onto a train…