Making the Decision

Five months ago, as I was standing in front of the over-sized file cabinets sorting invoices alphabetically, I was regretting quitting my executive assistant position at an innovative company in a beautiful office that overlooked the mountains. There, they used my talents and gave me my own office with my name on the window and understood when I needed to take my son to the doctor or stay home with him when he was sick. I’d worked there since I was 3 months pregnant and they knew I was a single mother. As long as I worked hard and completed my tasks, they gave me the wiggle room a single mother needs. It was the best job I had ever had and if they hadn’t cut my hours from 40/week to 20/week, without any warning, I would probably still be there.

Perhaps the stress of being overworked and underpaid was starting to seep through the hard work they were used to getting out of me, or perhaps they were really doing budget cuts as the Director of HR informed me. Regardless, there I was, working 20 hours a week, making just under $15 an hour with a work load that required 50+ hours a week and performing tasks that should have made me at least $25 and hour. I regretted going to salary.com to find out how much I should have been making doing the job I was doing. I was satisfied before I saw that figure and knew that if I kept working as hard as I was then I’d keep going up in this company. When I started to feel unappreciated, it was hard to hide.

There I was watching my potential career be slashed to 20 hours a week and less that $1000 a month. This barely covered babysitting and commuting costs. I couldn’t do it long. Because the CEO assured me the hour cut was temporary, I stayed for three months, suffering everyday, before finally giving up on the company. I quit without a plan and moved back in with my mother. It wasn’t long before I found another job as an administrative assistant at a wholesale bakery; closer to home, full time and with insurance (a benefit I wasn’t receiving at the “perfect job”). It was a little over $2 and hour less, but the extra 20 hours a week made my income higher than it was before.

I had been reduced to filing invoices and taking bakery orders over the phone after almost three years of climbing to a position where I supported two Vice Presidents of Strategic Development and a CEO. I handled international communications, helped develop products and websites, wrote franchise articles, edited a book, created full business proposals on my own (a job that typically takes a team of professionals), attended a few investor meetings, worked with the sales associates, bought advertising for our company, developed a charity organization, ran two entire departments and a long list of other duties. I did not belong in this bakery taking phone orders making $12 an hour and not needing to think for any part of my job. I lasted three months then quit with the intention of going back to school. I was 24 years old and my son was 2 ½. Spring semester had already started, but I couldn’t stay there another day, despite the desperate attempts of my supervisor, who was immensely overqualified for her position as well. I quit the same day I made the decision without a two weeks notice, which I hadn’t done since one of my high school jobs at TCBY nearly 8 years ago. With my mom’s promise to help, I decided that this would be the time I actually go back to school, instead of just talk about it for the millionth time. This time it is going to happen.