In the old times, you were what you worked in. At least where I live. It was written right in your passport, in your ID, Driver’s License… everywhere. If you were born a coal miner, you died as such. You lived your whole life surrounded by coal, and died buried in it, (metaphorically or, at times, literally).

Nowadays it’s different. Not everybody is lucky enough to have a job, in the first place; those who do, however, are usually weighted down by social pressure: they stay quiet, say nothing and work hard, as if having a job was some kind of unspeakable burden. In the middle of all this, I fired my boss. I quit. I decided to let go, even though I still have 20 years old and it could have meant a bright future.

Some people will criticize me for losing a job and a wage, (though small), so eagerly. Some people will dead stare me for having the opportunity to catch a successfull career and let it slip out of my hands. Some people won’t understant the reason why I did what I did, and will subsequently call me names. But I don’t care about all that, because I did what I felt right. I steered myself in the right direction, (I hope), even though I can’t see the path yet.

I won’t bother you with all the details, but the thing went down as follows: I started working for a company blog who wanted to positionate itself at the top of the search; that is, they wanted strong SEO. And I gave it to them. 95% SEO on page, around 3-4% keyword density, you name it. I wrote content, I researched, I even made suggestions about page design and typography because, well, I dig those things. It all went smooth for some time, but then, when I shipped the first pieces, something felt wrong. After all, I was writing about a topic that I didn’t have a clue about. I could optimize the content technically, of course, but I couldn’t present the topic in a juicy way because, well, I didn’t know how to.

And it showed. My boss told me that the content was as good as it gets on the technical matter, (all lights green and all), but it didn’t hit. It was flawed; hollow. I didn’t frown or grumble: I wanted to deliver great content, and I still do. I e-mailed my boss saying something on the lines of “well, we can still improve that, just give me some guidelines about what do you want”.

Then, it came: the dead signal. The days of waiting. The powerlessness of not being able to walk in any direction; of having the lights shut. From time to time, he did communicate, and we advanced a little bit further, but we still didn’t like the final content. Neither of us. He didn’t like the result as much as I didn’t like the process of writing about something I didn’t knew a thing about without knowing what to expect. It was very, very frustrating. Weeks passed, and it happened again: he e-mailed me some criticism of my work, (which I deeply thank him for), but without a single guideline. This and that were wrong, but the right went unspoken.

Now, let me clarify something: I don’t blame him. We’re very much alike, in the way that we are always in the search of another project, another course, another re-visit… you get it. He was as stuffed and caught in his work as I was in my exams, (and personal work), at the time. He didn’t choose not to communicate, but I felt the disconnection nevertheless. Maybe it wasn’t the right moment. Maybe I wasn’t the right guy. Who knows. We could have kept at it, and I’m sure that, with time, we’d have reached that final point of understanding.

But the question here is: how much time?

I have never liked to lose time. It’s the thing I most deeply appreciate, far more than money. Provided time and health, nothing is impossible. It’s just a matter of effort.

I have other projects incoming. I’m going to join Treehouse to learn coding. I’m working hard at my own blog, Nanopassio. I have some scheduled time with family and friends, of course; that, for me, is sacred. I have many other ideas waiting in my backburner. I could have scheduled some more time to work on this, but I didn’t. Had we already sketched the product we both liked, I’d be working at it right now. But we didn’t; there’s still a lot of work to do. That’s why I decided to fire my boss.

I wanted to deliver great content, and I still do.

As I said on the subtitle, I don’t regret my decision. Neither does he. We still have to come to terms with some un-paid work, but we’re closing the deal in a friendly manner. Long time ago, my grandmother told me the single best piece of advice I’ve ever heard: “It doesn’t matter what you do; always leave a good feeling behind you”. I’ve tried to follow this advice at all times, even when I didn’t wanted to, and it has lead me to great results.

I’m not writing this out of anger or frustration; I’m doing it because it felt important, and sharing important things makes us human. Now it’s your choice to back me up or judge me. Whatever you choose to do, I’ll be working hard. And looking up for some jobs.