I wore a corporate costume: business casual dress and a blazer on weekly rotation. My white hat, bleached perfectly, propped right on my head. I’m beginning to itch just thinking about putting the costume back on. It’s almost as if your costume is your price for admission to enter the fucking shit show of your career. When you’re at work you dress like this, you act like this and you’re expected to grow like this. No costume, no entry to the box. No box, no career. No career… you’re doomed. It’s one big mind game.
About two years ago, I began to document the ways in which I broke out of the box and became my own boss. (You know, the book I shamelessly plug every chance I get). At the same time I returned my bottle of bleach (no refund might I add) and let my white hat finally shimmer with all the dirt, misfortune and mistakes I had accumulated over the years. I also traded in my costume for something a little more comfortable. When I was writing the book, the costume change actually didn’t even cross my mind. Side note: Being being honest as always, I’m not giving up my blazers. They actually pair perfectly with my signature graphic T-shirts and ripped jeans. I spent a shit ton of money on them so they are staying.
It was like I woke up one day and said “Bitch, I quit.” It’s actually a phrase I’ve used quite a bit lately as well.
Fast forward to today, The Revolt is published and is a true to form representation of how I was able to get to that mindset (and how I still am trying to maintain that mindset), the good, the bad and the fucking ugly lessons I learned and the tangible tools I used to create my own professional destiny. Doesn’t mean I’m perfect. FAR FROM IT. When I fuck up, I go back to each chapter and create my roadmap back to success. So what the hell does this have to do with anything?
Well, I’ve been asked to expand this revolt rollercoaster in what feels like a zillion different directions.
- The chapters of the revolt are now going to be part of a professional development certification series to help those who are starting this journey hold themselves accountable.
- We’re taking this shit on the road, this fall, to talk to groups of potential bad asses. Think of it as a town hall for aspiring bosses.
- Last but not least: We’re building a community around my professional commentary with a podcast and digital platform where you can read content, listen to me rant, communicate with like minded professionals or better yet people you are not a fucking thing like to help you grow. Think of it as a safe space with more cussing than cop outs and more meaning than manners.
Because of all this, I’m in the midst of a strategic evaluation process. It’s what I would imagine a mid life crisis would feel like, but since I’m only 32 I know I’m just being dramatic.
I sat in a conference room just this past week where someone (relatively new to the revolt circle) said that if I kept quiet and wore my professional costume, he would have never anticipated the aggressive, high-volume, antagonist to emerge from the pages of the BYOB Revolt. I wasn’t sure if I was insulted or flattered that I could be that mysterious. He then asked if this expansion takes place, how do we explain it? My answer flew off my tongue faster than a Lil Jon “yeeahhhh”, I said “Easy, it happens by quitting.” The entire room looked at me like I had ten heads, a look I’ve grown accustomed to these last few years. So I proclaimed that the future of the revolt is summed up in one line:
“Bitch, I quit.”
- I quit living in a box.
- I quit wearing costumes.
- I quit following the rules of the professional world.
- I quit apologizing for it. (I slip up every once in a while on this one.)
I also quit thinking some dude in a suit had my back or at least my best interest in mind, but that’s a whole book in itself.
So, here we are: the next volume of The Revolt begins. I’m all in because, “Bitch, I quit!”