Time to Check Out

"Are you ready to check out?" says the automated cashier voice in my head. No. I wasn't ready, but I knew it was a move I had to make. For months I've been working a particular job that everyday, for five days a week, I'd come in and count down the hours until it was time to finally leave. I hated my job, but because of this job, I was able to pay my bills, go out and buy whatever I wanted, and be able to live to my liking. To me, that was more important than the bullshit I had to put up with on a daily basis. So I tossed my feelings of unhappiness aside every morning or closing shift,and kept money as my motivation.

The very moment that inspired my decision: I came into work Wednesday morning. I shipped out orders that customers placed in store. I do over 250 markdowns. I wait for my associate to come in so I can use the bathroom as I work alone for a few hours until the next person comes in. So when this associate comes in, ten minutes late, he sits down and starts talking on his phone. I let it slide because it might be important and assume that he will get off the phone soon. 15 minutes later and he's still on the phone. From a few feet away, I tell him get off the phone. He turns his head in my direction, says hold on to whoever he was talking to before saying, "Excuse me, who the fuck are you?" Who the fuck am I? Imagine telling your boss that. How many seconds after that would they still be your boss before they fire you. Those five words chimed in my head. I'm Soni.fucking. Solano. Was I working in an ideal location? No. Was I really learning from a team on how to better my skills and increase my chances of being promoted to the next level? No. Was I making as much as my skills were worth? No. Was I happy being there? lol, d e f i n i t e NO. I knew my worth, yet I was settling for less. In that moment, just like the several months I've been there, I was someone who was fucking settling. I know know my worth, capabilities, potential, drive, career aspirations, and so much more. I, am someone who is fucking leaving this job and finding something way better. So who am I? Someone that is fucking leaving. Like Queen B herself said, Boy, Bye. So I call my boss and put in my two weeks.

Never in my life had I put in my two weeks on the spot. Without having a cushion of funds to keep me afloat. Without having a plan. After the internal breakdown of panic for a completely unseen decision, comfort came over me. I was finally free, at least in two weeks I would be. Then came the thought of being unemployed. No funds. No more shopping sprees on Dollskill. No more lunches and dinners at cute spots in Soho. The comfort was still there, but now those thoughts were bringing me pain. Two weeks would be my transformation from Blair Waldorf to Jenny Humphrey. Maybe that was a bit drastic and as there is absolutely nothing wrong with that, you get the idea. After I clock out for the day, I took the train into the city, where I sit in a gallery for almost two hours. Just sitting. Just thinking. A woman comes around passing out bubbles, so I take bubbles and start blowing them. It was therapeutic AF. Everything would be ok, it's not like I would't be able to get another job ever.

Moral of the story: one day you are going to work a job you hate and put in your two weeks on the spot, so go find some bubbles, buy new feather down pillows, and play Bohemian Rhapsody really loud. Yes, this is the real life. (Here is your written reminder that this is a song reference, from the song) These things will happen, whether you were prepared to check out or not, you know your worth and how much better you deserve. Whether its work wise, relationship wise, or decision wise, you shouldn't settle for the things you don't deserve. And you definitely SHOULDN'T PUT UP WITH WORKING A JOB YOU DONT ENJOY.

Outfit deets are listed in my last 2 blog posts. Fun fact, the picture of me in my Vans were recently featured on the Vans website, so that was a very exciting moment. Photos by @royal.youths.