Feel Free to Quit Reading this Blog.
Written by Coonoor Behal.
“Progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything.” — George Bernard Shaw
As an innovation and creativity consultant, I spend my days working with clients who want to change their mindsets, skills, behaviors, organizational systems, and cultures to better embrace change. I counsel clients on pivoting (thinking, products, services, and more), but what is the biggest pivot you can make?
A hard quit.
A person’s “quitting stories” can reveal their deepest dreams, values, and struggles. In the course of my work, I’ve heard stories about people leaving jobs because they did not feel respected, they needed more money, or due to family pressure. I’ve heard stories of uprooting lives and leaving cities for reasons big and small. I’ve learned about their belief systems and what was important to them. I’ve learned about what they were and weren’t willing to put up with. From these stories, as well as my own quitting experiences, I’ve learned to view quitting not as “giving up,” but as making progress.
I was one of those (probably irritating) “achievers” growing up. I was class president, student council president, homecoming queen, choral leader, lead in the senior musical... you get it. My beloved high school guidance counselor, Mr. Cusick, once half-jokingly said I reminded him of Tracey Flick, the devastatingly aspirational high school student played by Reese Witherspoon in the movie Election. I was a joiner. A doer. I wasn’t a quitter.
But in college, I quit something that would impact the rest of my life.
I grew up a comedy nerd, so when I got to college in New York City, I signed up for an eight-week improv class. I went to the first class and was pretty immediately uncomfortable. I remember doing a two-person scene with a young, offbeat high school kid; he initiated a scene with me by clucking like a chicken and flapping his arms. I froze. I had no idea how to respond, despite the instructor’s gentle prodding that any response was a good one. After a long, awkward silence while the whole class waited for me to do something, I blurted out, “I’m going to eat you!”
I was bad at improv. Not because of what I said, but because of how long it took me to unfreeze in the face of ambiguity. I left that first class and never went back.
I regretted it immediately, and for years afterward I wondered, “What if I hadn’t quit? Would I have loved it? Would I be writing for a comedy show right now?” This thought process led me to realize a few things about myself:
I was used to being good at things.
I was used to being good at things because I was carefully selecting and opting-in to only things in which I knew I had a good chance of success. I rarely truly challenged myself.
I wasn’t good at improv.
I was afraid of being bad at something that might be important to my career aspirations at the time.
I still wanted to do improv.
This was a bad quit. It permitted me to stay in my comfort zone and put off the big life decisions that would allow me to curate my life.
After eight years of regret, and with the benefit of some good quits during those years, I signed up for another improv class. I remember sitting in a circle with the other students at the very first class, each of us awkwardly perched in the brightly colored, child-size chairs in the rented preschool classroom. The teacher, six years younger than me, asked us all to introduce ourselves and say why we signed up for the class. When my turn came, I said I had signed up “to settle an old emotional score with myself.”
This was the start of a lifelong devotion to improv comedy. I loved it. I even loved it when I was bad at it. Improv is now a big part of my innovation and creativity work. I “undid” this bad quit.
What we quit is a reflection of ourselves. The reasons why we quit teach us a lot about who we are and who we want to become.
So why do we resist quitting so much in our lives?
In America, most of us are raised to view quitting as a failure of character. From the time we are children, we are inculcated into a culture that equates reliability, character, and commitment with perseverance and follow-through on everything we set out to do. We’ve grown up in a world that glorifies “sticking it out” as a path to success. But who is to say that “sticking it out” in that job, that relationship, or that identity isn’t riskier than quitting? We all know the phrase, “Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.” Why can’t we look at quitting similarly and think “It’s a risk if you do, it’s a risk if you don’t?” Why is stasis and living life with inertia seen as less risky than decisive change and forward momentum?
Quitting is a choice. But so is not quitting.
I’ve kept a mental tally of my “Quitting Inventory” over the years, ever since the bad improv quit. My “good” quits include:
Three careers
Two full-time jobs
Two friendships (one of which I have since un-quit)
Two romantic relationships
One marriage
Six cities
I encourage you to do your own “Quitting Inventory.” Even if you think you haven’t quit anything, you may be surprised by what a quick re-examination of your life choices yields. Asking “why” you quit those things will get to the heart of who you are, what you value, and what you want out of life.
Most of the time, when we quit something, it’s because we’re not willing to put up with something. For me, my quits, good and bad, can be summed up as follows: I wasn’t willing to put up with...
Sexual harassment and not feeling safe in the workplace.
Learning that I might be bad at something I loved. (Ahem, improv.)
Being treated with complacency and negligence.
Other people toying with my livelihood.
Letting a man make me feel insecure about myself.
The expectation that I stay polite and quiet in the face of selfishness and racism.
This is essentially a list of my life’s biggest choices, my biggest swings for the fences. This list is a life of values and tradeoffs of which I am incredibly proud. Every single one of them propelled me on to a better version of myself and nudged me closer to actually finding what I wanted from life, love, and labor.
I want to change the stigma around quitting and quitters, and to normalize quitting as a sign of self-awareness, self-worth, courage, and progress. I encourage you to reexamine your own quitting experiences through this new paradigm, and maybe even make that next big, positive change for yourself.
So quit reading this blog, and go find your next “good quit!”.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: COONOOR BEHAL
Coonoor Behal is the Founder & CEO of Mindhatch, a consultancy that helps organizations create the conditions for innovation and creativity to thrive. Through Mindhatch, Coonoor delivers her unique mix of expertise in Design Thinking, Organizational Improv™, Innovation Facilitation, and Diversity & Inclusion. LEARN MORE
