Run When It’s Time to Go!

chinese culture dating customs I found out the hard way not to stay when it’s time to go. The place where I tarried too long—the dreadful environment—was my last job. There, you have it. My first problem was laid before me. I was holding tight to something that didn’t belong to me. Since I wasn’t a company owner, it wasn’t—MY JOB to begin with.

rencontre filles medecines That place of employment wasn’t a professional dream situation. I wasn’t doing what I loved for a company with scruples. In terms of office morale, other staffers were miserable as well. We were micro-managed, criticized, and required to do more with no emotional attagirls/attaboys or increased financial incentives.

arti hookup In terms of an upward climb, forget about it. The firm was focused on profit margins, not professional mobility unless you were a member of their “Good Ole Clan.” At the prison camp—I mean the job, the atmosphere was not cute, pleasant, and didn’t qualify as meaningful. The work wasn’t about making a difference to a life or a community. That should have been my only reason to toss self-preservation aside.

site de rencontre en algerie sans inscription I often asked myself. “Determined Lynda, why did you stay in that hell hole when God had long revealed to you in so many ways that it was past time to go?” The reason was disobedience. I remained because, for a brief moment in time, I forgot who fed and clothed me. I actually believed that job was the only means to my end. Because I convinced myself to believe that comedy, I settled for a little of nothing instead of opening my eyes to a lot of everything.

dating sites delhi india Well, long after it was time to go, the noose was tightened so severely that my physical and emotional health was on life support—waning rapidly. That was God’s way to force me to get up from that desk, move out of that cubicle, and sashay to the closest big red, lighted sign reading: rencontre bbf EXIT. Lo and behold, instead of fear, there was freedom on the other side of that door. Instead of the poor house, there was peace. I restarted my professional engine, solely focused on completing my assignment while doing something I loved—writing site de rencontre gratuit agen A Complicated Love Song. And guess what! To the slightest iota, that nightmare job hasn’t entered my mind. I haven’t looked back.

http://inter-actions.fr/bilobrusuy/7042 rencontre sexe 59440 Determined Lynda’s Final Thought for the Moment: If your situation is similar, I suggest that when you know better, do better. Don’t be as bold as me and walk out, but devise an escape plan. Start digging yourself a tunnel. When the coast is clear, crawl for your life. Nothing’s going to change, so get the hell out of there! —Lynda has magic to do. Do you?

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