When’s the last time you asked yourself, “What the fuck am I doing?”
Take a second and think about it. I guarantee you’ve said this at least once your life. Maybe you don’t use expletives (I won’t judge you if you’re and H-E-double hockey sticks kinda person), but you’ve said this to yourself before.
This question can be a negative or positive thing and it doesn’t have to be about life or be super serious. Maybe there was a time when you chose to eat at KFC instead of Chick-fil-A and you grabbed a chicken breast out of your chicken bucket, took that first bite, then looked down at your hands, lathered in grease and oils like you’re in the middle of giving a massage to The Colonel, and thought, “What the fuck am I doing?” Personally, I’ve never encountered this problem because I’m not a communist and would never elect to go to KFC over Chick-fil-A but you do you. But maybe there was a more honest moment in your life when you had to stop and ask yourself, “What the fuck am I doing?”
For me, this has become a recurring thing over the last few years. There’s been days I would wake up, stare at the ceiling (or the bottom of the bunk bed above me because I still live at home please don’t judge me) for a minute and ask myself that question. There were times when I would be walking to or from class, a young and stout sports broadcasting major at Indiana University, listening to Pardon My Take or The Bill Simmons Podcast and that question would just pop into my head. I don’t know why, but it did. Or more recently, three weeks ago to be exact, after I quit my potential six-figure job in home sales to continue chasing a career in the broadcast industry.
Side note: I strongly recommend you quit at least one job in your life. It was truly one of the most exhilarating feelings I’ve ever had. You don’t have to make a scene or do anything too crazy (although I bet that would be a pretty dope feeling, like that dude who quit his job at Popeyes by rapping it in the store), but it’s a unique feeling you won’t find anywhere else.
I knew quitting that job was a big risk, but I’ve always embraced the challenge of taking a big risk. I could’ve gone to a local school with lots of my friends from high school, but I wanted to get out of my comfort zone and force myself to meet new people.
‘nother side note: I hate meeting new people. I know that’s a terrible mentality to have, but if you gave me the option of going out or staying in to to drink alcohol and watch a game or a movie, I’m choosing to stay in about 80% of the time (you gotta have some fun at least some of the time).
I could’ve studied something basic like business or marketing, but I chose IU because they have the best sports media program around and I wanted to do something that would make me feel electric. I knew I wanted a job where people would hear what I had to say after I single-handedly led my high school student section to the state football championship our senior year (shut up Reid and Bull, let me have my moment). And I accomplished both of those tasks in school. I met some dope people, some not-so-dope people, and experienced some amazing experiences I never thought I’d experience (real writers know how to take one word and use it three different ways).
But quitting that job was probably the biggest risk I’ve taken. Prior to accepting that position, I spent about five months of my life after graduation feeling more emotions than a mood ring. The job market hit me like a fucking wrecking ball and I didn’t fire any shots back (thank you Ms. Rose for teaching me similes/metaphors). Not having a job, combined with seeing all my friends moving on with their lives, made me depressed as shit. I wasn’t really talking to anyone and I couldn’t look my parents in the eyes whenever I had dinner with either of them. They tried to get me out of my funk but their words would go in one ear and out the other. At that point, the ONLY thing that was gonna make me happy again was to find a job. So I started looking for work outside of broadcasting. One day, I was conversing with my friend from school and he was telling me about his job in home sales and said I should try applying. I got hired exactly one week later. All of the negative emotions I felt from the five months prior just washed away faster than Kevin Spacey’s career. I was finally happy again.
Now let’s get back to the part about me quitting the job that finally made me happy again.
I didn’t hate the job at all. In fact, it was really enjoyable most of the time. I had a salary (for the time being), all the benefits, people I enjoyed working with, the whole nine yards. But I decided to quit after only two months because it wasn’t the career for me. There were many days at work when I’d be practicing touring a home or just be sitting at my desk and would think to myself, “What the fuck am I doing?” But this was a positive version of that question. Remember that scene from Role Models when the guy is in Elizabeth Banks’ office after stealing all those TV’s? I kinda felt like that but only questioning myself. “Me? Griffin Weinberg? Trying to sell homes?!?” THAT is not me.
After telling my sales manager I couldn’t work there any longer, I walked out to my car, knowing damn well I didn’t have a clue what I was gonna do next, and let the adrenaline flow throughout my body. I opened the front door to my teal-ish colored Corolla, sat down, took a deep breath, exhaled said deep breath, and let the realization of what I had just done hit me. After taking a minute to recollect myself, I asked aloud, “What the fuck am I doing?”
But again, this was a positive version of that question. Like I was half-smiling when I asked that to myself while sitting in my car. I felt rejuvenated after quitting that job. I FEEL rejuvenated after quitting that job. Although I’m currently still unemployed, I’m not gonna fall back into that cave I was trapped in while I was depressed (unless falling into that cave means I’m gonna be Batman some day then I guess I’m cool with that).
I got a new lease on life, and I mean that both literally and metaphorically. Literally, I just leased an office the other day, dubbed “The Griffin Weinberg Experience,” so I can get out of my house and have a place to get some work done (business 101: you gotta spend money to make money).
No longer am I asking myself, “What the fuck am I doing?” Instead, I ask myself, “What the fuck WAS I doing?”
I honestly haven’t felt this good in a while from a mental standpoint (physically I haven’t worked out in like three months). I’m working on a podcast with a couple guys and I’m starting to make some progress on the job front (cookie crumbs, but it’s progress). And I may start blogging a little bit too, so keep your eyes peeled.
The Chinese calendar claims 2019 is the Year of the Pig, but the Chinese are wrong (no offense).
I say 2019 is the Year of The Berg.
Thanks in advance for your birthday wishes.
Hakuna Matata.
Griffin Weinberg 