“I am handing in my resignation.”
The calm in my voice concealed the stress that hid just beneath my worn exterior. It was Tuesday 8th March at around 4.55pm – five minutes before the workday was due to end – and I could no longer hold in my news.
My manager sat on the other end of the Teams call and wore a shocked expression. (She later confessed, she saw it coming.) Although I had started the position less than a year prior, I was doing very well, and had already gained a positive reputation within the organisation. So why was I choosing to quit?
It happened on a day my babysitter wasn’t available. I had juggled work with looking after my one-year-old, the husband was away, and Akili and Me and Dave & Ava had been tasked with entertaining my son for an unhealthy number of hours. I was guilt ridden and tired. My living room, which shared space with a makeshift “home office”, looked like it had been hit by a bomb. Considering it was International Women’s Day, I wasn’t feeling very empowered.