In the end, she decided that “there will be other jobs.” “My thought process was, if I am risking my mental health for a job that’s going to pay for my college, if I’m in a depressive state, you’re not even going to be able to do the work in college, anyway,” she said in an interview. Her video has been viewed nearly 15,000 times. “Dear Management,” she wrote instead, “Due to a lack of scheduling flexibility caused by a staffing shortage, I unfortunately have to resign.” She backtracked on that approach in case she needed to use Buffalo Wild Wings as a reference for a future job. She gave notice in June in a text message to her manager, narrating the exchange in a TikTok posting. Instead, she said, her schedule became even more hectic. When she asked for three weeks off to focus on school, she was assured the restaurant would be fully staffed by the time she returned. (Shuran Huang for The Washington Post)īut her boss begged her to stay. Solomon gave notice in June in a text message to her manager, narrating the exchange in a TikTok posting that’s drawn nearly 15,000 views. “Every single person in my life told me to quit,” she said. She worked double shifts - eight hours each - on her scheduled days off. “When you’re the only server in the restaurant, and people tip you out of pity, you can make a lot of money,” she said.Īt home, her parents worried she had “disappeared.” Yet nearly every day after school, she was back at the restaurant. In the first three weeks, she made $2,000. Still, the tips were hard to pass up, much more money than she had expected.
Soon she was working six days a week while trying to finish high school. The restaurant was chronically understaffed, Solomon said, and usually operated with fewer than half the servers it needed. On a good day, when sports fans crowded the bar and ordered beer by the pitcher, she could go home with $300 in cash. In March, she got a job as a server at Buffalo Wild Wings, hoping to save enough to cover textbooks and dorm room essentials before heading to the University of Miami. She had solid grades and her pick of colleges, with plans to study public health and business. Sky Solomon, 18, was president of her high school class in Wheaton, Md. The TikTok videos, often raw, sometimes profane and always emotional, show how the pandemic has exacerbated the stresses of work in America and revealed how some workers are using this moment to reevaluate what they want out of life.īut why post about quitting on TikTok? And if the videos show how much these TikTokers craved something better, what actually comes next? These five TikTokers told us their stories. And by doing so, they joined countless others who have turned the “ Great Resignation” - the pandemic-era phenomenon of record numbers of Americans quitting their jobs, more than 4 million a month since July - into a communal online experience. They also posted a video about their decision, some of the very moment they resigned, on the popular social media site TikTok. Joanna Lai loved her colleagues but felt her enthusiasm for her corporate job waning.īut they all didn’t just quit their jobs. Taylor Reid thought she deserved a raise. Montez Braxton saw his job at McDonald’s as a dead end.
Mercury Stardust enjoyed working as a home maintenance technician but expected better treatment from her bosses. Sky Solomon, a college student waiting tables in the Washington area, wanted more pay but also less stress. If they were ever going to get more from their jobs - more money, more freedom, more security, more happiness - they felt they had to take a chance now.
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