I used to be a really good quitter.
I don’t mean that in a negative way. I just mean that I always knew when to walk away from something that was no longer right for me.
When I was 21 years old, I was made managing editor of a small daily newspaper. Although I soon turned 22, I was still the youngest managing editor of a daily paper in the country at the time. (My technical skills were fantastic, but I was a terrible manager. I didn’t have a clue how to manage people at that age.)
I had been offered a full-time job as managing editor of a weekly newspaper at the end of my junior year at the University of Alabama. I first turned it down, but then I became intrigued. I took the job, thinking I’d spend a year getting experience and then I’d go back to school. But after about eight months at the weekly, I was promoted to sports editor of the daily owned by the same company. Just four months later, I was promoted again — to managing editor of the daily.
After nearly a year in that job, I started feeling that it was time to move on. One Sunday morning, I was driving to church when I realized it was time to quit.
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