« Mr. Shady Glen | Main | Termites, Tents and Trenches »



My quitting fantasy is much more simplistic, though I believe it has merit. In one scenario I win the lottery and in another I’m visited by lawyers from a small principality in Western Europe who tell me I’m actually a prince and have come into several large castles, estates and the templar fortune.

Both of the above allow me to quit my job by burning bridges in spectacular style, and in fact, the mainstay of the fantasy is my showing up at headquarters wearing black tie and tails, tap shoes and carrying a large black walking stick, which I use as prop for the big dance number entitled, “I quit, and furthermore, I despise you all.”

On the more realistic side, you’re correct; any job that pays a great deal of money is chock full of responsibilities. And as I’ve grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle, I’ve no choice but to persevere.


I am going through this same thought process as well. Fortunately (or unfortunately) I have no family to take care of. Fortunately (or unfortunately) the job I am thinking of leaving is a family biz job. Of course, talking to my colleagues is impossible, so my quitting fantasies are very simple and quiet, less I hurt the family's feelings.

Course, it would be great to do a Michael Douglas "Falling Down" quit job or the like. Since my ancestors are from Ireland, I doubt there are any princes left to inherit huge sacks of money.


Well, I want to get a new job too, but for the opposite reasons. I want/need more responsibility/income. So, if any of you high-paid guys are looking to pussy out, let me know. I'll send my resume/vitae.

R J Keefe

I am still dying to know what "The Crack" was all about, and here's why: having grown up in a privileged executive family, I eventually realized (lightbulbs en masse) that what is so neatly called "the power wall" in Outer Life has manifold parallels to the princely courts of the ancien régime. Cliques and intrigue, and no genuine output! Certainly the most interesting feature is that although everybody, or almost everybody, hates it, nobody dares to leave it. It is the only source of perqs and prestige. Just consider your salary a pension, and your responsibilities an obligation to pay attention to the court.

And I can almost guarantee this: there is no other job paying a remotely comparable salary where the same "ambivalences" will not arise.


If clothes do make the Man, then a downward spiral to oblivion or a corkscrew spiral from the Wall need an appropriate attire. I believe hairshirts went out with serfs and (Fielding's) Tom Jones, but a comeback is a certainty.
It will let your wallmates know where you're (thinking of) going. Not sure if any sort of tie would match, although a thick noose would definitely fit.

The comments to this entry are closed.