Monday, July 11, 2005

Get a Job

I did it.

I quit my job and put the "gone surfin'" sign on the door.

I'm Corky Carroll. I'm unemployed. I'm a sunglass rep. I'm a beach-muthafuckin'-bum.

Here's how it happened:

Not long after my last post in late April, I had "the talk" with my bosses up in SF.

"We're not getting enough out of you. We need you to handle a few more accounts. We need you to step up."

"Um, okay. Sure."

And lo and behold the next thing I knew 2 months had gone by, my bags were permanently packed, I practically had my own room at the Fairmont in SF, my surfboards were covered in dust, and my kids were calling the handyman, "Dad".

NOT what I had in mind when I took this gig.

So I did it. Last week, after much deliberation with my wife and some very candid, very scary evaluations of our finances, I pulled the trigger. I walked into my office at 111 Sutter St. in downtown San Francisco, and placed one copy of my resignation letter on the desk of the Managing Partner, one copy on the desk of the Executive Creative Director, and one copy on the desk of his counterpart, the Creative Director (why he doesn't get the big "E" in front of his title, I don't know).

And on this Friday I will officially enter the ranks of the unemployed.

I'm going to surf. I'm going to write. I'm going to play with my kids until my back gives out. I'm going to make dinner with my wife. I'm going to watch movies. I'm going to read books. And at some point, I'm going to explore every crazy business venture and harebrained idea I've tabled over the past 10 years.

Watch out, pier rats. There's a fat, unemployed, 32-year old back in the water. He's slow, he's out of shape, but he's got two new boards on the way and he's got a shitload of free time.

The Colonel says, "Surf's up, Corky."