Adjectives used to describe my decision to resign without (yet) a new position to move into are generally along the lines of “That’s a big / bold / brave move.” None of which is remotely comforting. “Bonkers / bewildering / bad” is my translation. I do like a good alliteration.
These responses all suggest I’m taking a risk, as if risk itself is inherently bad and to be avoided at all costs. But risk, as with most things in life, is relative. Getting out of bed in the morning is risky. Lighting up your Christmas tree is fraught with danger.
And then there’s skydiving; base jumping, bungee-jumping; potholing (not the bloke from the council who re-tarmacs the A5).
It’s only really a risk if there’s a fear associated with it. In the list above, generally a fear of heights or enclosed spaces. Or for me, the fear of mechanical failure, which ensures rollercoasters are a far more scary experience than perhaps they ought to be.
So what’s the risk associated with leaving a job without jumping straight into another one? What’s there to be fearful of?
FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out), and its youthful acronymic counterpart – YOLO (You Only Live Once) – give an opposing perspective. It’s the fear of regret; of indecision or inaction. The fear of not being willing to try something new, of not uprooting and temporarily moving to a foreign country. Or the fear of mundanity and perfunctorily working 9-to-5 just to pay off the mortgage.
My Dad left school at 14 to work as a mechanic in a Golden Wonder crisp factory. Around 30 years later he’d set up his own business as a Financial Advisor. That’s pretty good going for a working class lad from the Dingle* in Liverpool. And you don’t manage that without facing into a huge number of risks, uncertainties and unknowns, especially with 4 kids to feed. But he did it.
So is my decision risky? Of course. But the risk of inaction is far greater. And that’s what I’m avoiding. You can’t find out what life has in store for you by opening a few doors and just nervously peering into the abyss. Sometimes you have to jump in.
So my reasons for leaving, sticking alliteratively with the b’s:
“Brian Blessed Balls.”
*Where “Bread” was filmed, for those of you old enough to remember it.
Some Pilot You Are 