Location, location, location: It's not just for real estate.

When Mark and I were dating, he got me a card for some holiday (Valentine’s Day? Birthday? I can’t remember.) that compared real estate to kisses. As in, the key is location, location, location.

Looking back, I’m not sure that was actually appropriate, considering I was in high school and all.

But it’s true (both about kisses and real estate). It’s also true about workplaces, although I don’t think you’ll find a greeting card with that sentiment.

Can you imagine? Congratulations on your new job! I hear it’s a lateral move, but at least you’re within walking distance of that grocery store with the good salad bar!

No, I don’t think Hallmark will be breaking into this category anytime soon. But it doesn’t change the fact that where you work is sometimes just as important as, well, where you work.

I didn’t realize this at first. My first “real” job after college was in a suburb, and I took it for granted that my office building was just a few blocks from two grocery stores, a gas station, a library, a post office and several fast food restaurants.

When I moved to an office downtown, I realized how spoiled I’d been. It wasn’t that those things couldn’t be found in the downtown area, but driving to and parking at any of those places was a pain in the neck! And at that time (our downtown area has been developed and revitalized since then), the pickings for food, gas and stamps were actually pretty slim.

I worked downtown for a few years and then found myself working in an office building within a mile of that first suburban workspace. This time, my window faced the brand-new Target parking lot.

Score!

That’s right. Since I’d been gone, the area had welcomed a Target and a Panera. (Even better? That Panera has a drive-thru!)

More than once, my co-worker John in the next office (also facing Target) would holler, “Hey, Mary, did you see that dog in the parking lot?” or “What is that guy doing over there?”

Yes, we did know how to have a good time.

Unfortunately, that perfectly located job was the same job I lost when I was seven months pregnant. After a four-month maternity leave/job hunt, I found myself in a completely new (to me) job location.

This time I was close to home and within minutes of a (dying) mall, Super Walmart, post office, Target, two libraries, two grocery stores and tons of restaurants. And did I mention the 12-minute commute?

But, I realized quickly, I was so far from all my working friends. Meeting for lunch wasn’t nearly as easy as it was when I worked in the city or even south of it. There’s just something intimidating or time-consuming or something about crossing the river. And so lunch dates became increasingly rare.

Buying my non-cold groceries or mailing the bills, though? Piece of cake to get that done in an hour!

I think my favorite job location would be the ones “down south.” They were further away, but at the time, I didn’t mind the 20-30 minute drive at all. Thanks to an alternate route, I rarely faced heavy traffic, and it gave me time to think. Or, let’s be honest, wind-dry my hair when I was running late. And other than a Walmart, pretty much any type of store or restaurant I could want was close by.

Downtown offices come in a close second, though, just because I think it’s fun (or cool) to work downtown. Except in a blizzard. In that case, it’s terrible.

[For the record: If you find yourself working downtown when a blizzard hits, don’t drink a bottle of water on your way home. Because even though it normally takes just 20 minutes to get home, it quite possibly could take more than two hours. And that’s a long time to hold it. Hypothetically speaking, of course.]

The best part of my current job’s location (and, okay, I’ll admit it: sometimes the best part of my current job, period) is that it’s close to home. When Mark was working evenings, that meant I could go home for lunch and spend 35 minutes with him and Annalyn. Now that he’s working nights, it means I can pick up Annalyn from daycare and be home to spend the evening with my family by 5:00.

Do you think the location of a job is important? What’s the best place – location-wise – you’ve worked? Or the worst?

These are not my cubicles. Photos by DDFic, The Lost Dutchman, GraceFamily and Sailor Coruscant.

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The Best Time to Resign (or, Take This Job and . . .)

This is pretty much exactly how I look when resigning from a job. Exactly.

I’ve quit a lot of jobs.

But don’t you dare call me a quitter. Or a job hopper. Reasonable or not, that criticism gets me going like no other. Perhaps because I’m afraid it might be true.

My first official, get-a-paycheck job was at the public library one town over from mine. I started working there the summer after my sophomore year and quit during my senior year.

I’d been thinking about quitting because I was so busy during that last year of high school, but the tipping point was when I got in trouble for talking to friends who stopped by to visit. I decided if I couldn’t do whatever I wanted, it wasn’t worth it. In my defense, I was a teenager with a teenager’s typical lack of wisdom.

[I know. Which one is more shocking – that I got in trouble for talking too much or that I quit over it?]

The next several jobs I had were temporary in nature, so leaving doesn’t really fall under the “quitting” category. (Although for those four weeks I worked at McDonald’s, I can tell you I spent my entire shift calculating exactly how many more hours I needed to work to pay my bills.)

I was sad to leave the Chamber of Commerce and my college’s registrar’s office, but not so sad to leave my summer jobs as a waitress and a Walmart cashier.

After graduating college and moving back to Kansas City, I had a hard time finding the type of job I wanted. Strangely, though, the bills didn’t stop coming, so I took a job at a staffing company. Ironically, I spent those three months helping other people find jobs.

When at long last I found the type of job I was looking for – planning non-profit events – I was ecstatic. Not only would I be putting my education and passion to good use, but I’d be escaping the monotonous and excruciating job I’d been enduring.

[If only I’d known a) how much longer it would take me to find future jobs and b) how not excrutiating that job actually was. Ahhh, foolish youth. And hindsight. And all that good stuff.]

Unfortunately, when it came time to put in my two weeks’ notice, I realized the timing could not be any worse. Shortly before that two-week date arrived, I was scheduled for my three-month review. The next day, my manager was leaving for a week-long vacation that would put her back just about 10 days before my planned last day.

I had a choice: I could either keep quiet and not give a full two week’s notice – or muck up both my performance review and my manager’s vacation by telling her early that I’d be leaving.

I chose to give my full notice in that review, before my manager’s vacation. The next day, the company’s owner told me that I’d ruined my manager’s vacation and I should just leave without finishing my two weeks.

So much for doing the right thing.

The next time I quit a job, I found myself in a similar boat. I left that first dream job to go to graduate school, so I knew for a few months that I’d be leaving. I was heartbroken to give up my job that I truly loved, but I felt that God had given me an amazing opportunity I’d be foolish to ignore.

It was hard to keep my impending exit a secret, but what complicated matters was the possibility of a training conference. My boss, unaware that I wouldn’t be with the organization much longer, was considering sending me to a conference before the time I’d leave.

I didn’t feel right spending the organization’s money when I knew I wouldn’t be using that training, so I ended up giving nine weeks’ notice. [And returning after one semester of graduate school, but that’s a story for another time!]

Since then, I’ve written several resignation letters and left several jobs. The process is different every time, and so are my feelings surrounding it.

When I left grad school (and my teaching commitment), I felt like a failure.
When I left that first non-profit job (for good), I felt like a failure again. And angry. And scared.
When I left my first advertising agency job, I felt relief.
When I left my second agency job, I was disappointed and confused. And excited.

Have you quit many jobs? How did you feel?

Photos from the 2002 movie that Smitty hated but I loved (despite its incorrect title punctuation), Two Weeks Notice.

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