I quit my job on Wednesday morning. Prior to Wednesday, I had been on duty for two weeks straight. I was really looking forward to a lazy day off. Barely awake, I received an urgent text message from my boss. He insisted that I head straight to the airport and get the plane ready for a last minute flight to New York. He was trying to arrange a big business deal and wanted to impress his clients by arriving in a moment’s notice. I am not completely opposed to last-minute work schedule changes as long as they are extremely rare and entirely warranted. However, this very scenario had occurred at least seven times in the past year. I was beginning to notice a trend that I was not willing to accept.

After getting the plane ready, I took out my laptop and wrote a polite, professional resignation letter and sent it off. I sat in the executive terminal for four hours awaiting a confirmation of the flight to New York. Eventually, my boss called and confirmed cancellation of the trip. He mentioned receiving my resignation letter and asked if I could stop by his office to discuss it. I stowed the plane and headed straight to my company’s corporate office. Admittedly, I was a little anxious. During the drive, I kept playing out the upcoming interaction in my mind with half-rehearsed lines. I kept telling myself, “This man is a millionaire and the owner of a large corporation. He could make my life truly miserable if he felt slighted by my words or actions.” I knew I was going to be offered more money to stay but quality of life is far more important than money. Corporate pilots tend to have somewhat unpredictable work schedules but it was getting to be ridiculous with this job.

I pulled up to the office and stopped by the restroom on the way to my boss’ office. I splashed some water in my face and then stood there for a moment staring at the Man in the Mirror. I noticed that he had put on quite a bit of muscle since I last saw him. His posture was inherently upright and confident. His facial expression betrayed some nervousness but his eyes were fierce. This man was clearly determined to make a positive change in his life. He knew what his goals were. He knew that he had discipline and skills to achieve them. He knew that nothing could stand in the way of his goals. Not even a millionaire and his money. The Man in the Mirror was the man that I had always wanted to be.

I left the bathroom and walked into my boss’ office. I walked up to my boss, confidently looked him in the eye, and firmly shook his hand. We sat for a few minutes in complete silence. I remembered sitting in the same chair a year ago trying to sell myself. At the time, I was somewhat desperate and supplicated more than I’d like to admit. Corporate pilot jobs are generally very difficult to come by even if they aren’t the greatest. My resume was competing with those of retired airline and military pilots. Tough competition to say the least.

My boss eventually broke the silence by asking the million-dollar question, “Why do you want to leave?” Before I spoke, I remembered the Man in the Mirror. The Man in the Mirror would not feel the need to explain himself in a defensive manner. I looked my boss in the eye and replied, “It’s been a pleasure flying for you but I have my future to consider, sir.” After a few more minutes of silence, my boss’ expression and body language visibly softened. “This is truly a surprise. I thought you were happy!” “I like the flying the plane and passengers are great, but I need more stability in my life,” I replied. “But you’re a young guy! You don’t have a wife and kids at home,” he quickly countered. “Sir, we ALL deserve some stability in life. Even you.” At that moment, the Man in the Mirror stood beside me with his hand firmly placed on my shoulder in support. My boss began to speak again in protest but then held back. I think he understood that, regardless of what he could offer, my decision was not going to change. The tone of the conversation became lighthearted. “I think you’ve done a great job. I’d be happy to provide letter of recommendation if you ever need one,” my boss extolled. I smiled and nodded. “Thank you, sir. I’d really appreciate that.”

I am 27 years old. I know that many of the men in my generation are struggling to come to terms with the world we live in. My advice is to take a long look in the mirror. If Man in the Mirror is the man you want to be, then that’s all that really that matters.