Disclosure: this post could also have been called “Up Close And Personal With MetricJulie” so if you’re not interested in me and things that affect me, please proceed to another webpage, preferably the Epic Charity Wager Donation Page.

It's just a metaphor. I know nothing about football.

It's just a metaphor. I know nothing about football.

So. Here is a part of my story: I moved to Quebec City when I was 12 and then studied admin/HR because, well, I didn’t really know what I wanted to do, and since I was highly organized, versatile and sensitive to human relations, my guidance counselor in high school suggested HR to me, based on the results of my RIASEC test (I was SEC – Social, Enterprising and Conventional). Very much in the same way, my brother, 3 years later, found out that he should become either a musician, a clown or a mime, since he was artistic. So for whatever that test was worth, I opted for admin.

I slowly worked my way up the HR & Productivity ladder, learned all about kaizen, lean sigma and labor relations. It was awesome. But I often went to work tired because of tutoring and working on translating contracts that I started landing here and there through word of mouth. It became obvious that while I was good at my job, I had absolutely no passion for it. I loved the trust that people instilled in me and I loved the feeling of being successful, but I so didn’t care about what I was doing. I only loved words, dictionaries and grammar. So with that in mind, I decided to quit my job in June of 2008 and move to Montreal to pursue an exciting career in languages in this bilingual metropolis.

So I moved to Montreal and found a temp job. Basically a job about which I didn’t care, would never care, that would be easy enough to use only half (if that) of my brain and wouldn’t leave me drained at the end of the day, so I could concentrate on finding contracts and studying French & English at a good school here.

That didn’t work out so well. Since I’m still the same efficient, organized girl whose desire to please is so great, I was taking on more and more responsibilities and ended up getting promoted. Woohoo! Recognition! Praise! More money! Much more money.

As Metric would say, You say you wanna get in and you’re gonna get out. But you wont cause it’s a trap…

I started working, working, working. I was becoming stressed out and tired. I was in a crappy relationship. Living in the miserable suburbs. Inching my way toward becoming a desperate housewife. DUDE. This isn’t what I signed up for.

Two weeks ago, I organized a conference in Toronto. For 12 weeks I worked my ass off for this event and it didn’t even go well. It actually went horribly. It was so bad, I texted a friend during the conference to tell her “I’m either getting fired or quitting”. It was so bad, two friends picked me up at the airport upon my arrival in Montreal, and I CRIED IN THEIR CAR.

Maybe I’m overreacting, but I really don’t think that crying is a sign that things are going well. So after two days of soul-searching (and 1 day of faking an illness to continue my thought process at home), I decided to quit my job. Again.

Truth is, if I look back on the past year spent in Montreal, I feel like I have accomplished nothing. It is an awful feeling. I am 25 years old, in (almost) perfect health, I’m smart, capable… I have no excuse except my own lethargy and complacency.

I have now quit my job and found a new one where I was able to negotiate a flexible, part-time schedule – and it’s easy enough not to wear me out, yet interesting enough to put in both my CV and my language portfolio; I have appointments with 2 guidance counselors at 2 universities in Montreal to help me determine which program is best for me and my aspirations; I moved into a new place; and have re-established my plan. All in one week.

My plan, more than 1 year ago, was to move to Montreal, work in languages, kick everyone’s ass in that field and be at the head of the class, the front of the line, sitting on top of the world. While I may be late to the game, I’m in now. I can begin grinding my way up to the top. It’s when you don’t stick to your game plan that you increase your bad decisions and get caught in a guillotine choke or an armbar.

I may have lost the last fight, but I will never tap out.