Go for it!

If work is making you feel as though you want to turn in your resignation, you're not alone. Draw inspiration from these busy professionals, who took time off to relax, reasses and find new meaning in their lives.

BAILING OUT FROM THE WORKDAY world can be exhilarating--and hair-raising. Throwing caution to the winds to strike out on one's own can be the start of a fulfilling adventure--and a satisfying new way-of-life--even in today's volatile economy. Of course, many individuals don't have the time, money or guts to walk this economic tightrope.

For most, starting a business, spending time with family, teaching or just taking some time off to regroup would be enough. The problem is that so often these aspirations amount of nothing more than dreams deferred: they happen either too late or not at all. But these days, more individuals are taking the risk and rewriting the script so that they can be in charge of the show.

Despite the strong work ethic embraced by many baby boomers, a recent study reflects a definite change in this group's attitude toward work. According to the study presented at the Academy of Management's national meeting, held last August in Cincinnati, nearly 40% of the 874 middle-income managers survived said they would quit their jobs if they had enough money to live comfortably. A similar study done in the 1980s found that only 23% would quit, and back in the 1950s only 14% said they would opt out.

Today's respondents said that if they could change jobs they would work for smaller companies or become entrepreneurs, notes Frieda Reitman, a professor emeritus at Pace University in New York, who co-authored the study with Professor Joy Schneer of Rider University in Lawrenceville, New Jersey. "Only a small percentage focused on living a life of leisure. It was much more a desire for self-employment and more involvement with the family and community."

STOP THE WORLD, I WANT TO GET OFF

Longer hours, increased responsibility and little free time have created a legion of stressed-out workers with no real outlet. Others have found that the grind of a nine-to-five job no longer offers them all they thought it would.

"It's part of the natural evolution of humans beings to want to feel that their work is valuable and that they are making a contribution," says James C. Gonyea, founder and host of the America Online Career Center in New Port Richey, Florida. "As people move higher up in an organization, they become distanced from the people they're intended to serve. They begin to feel unfulfilled."

Another reason some individuals want to change their line of work is the realization that they were in the wrong field to begin with. So many people are not fully aware of their interests, abilities, values and needs--those elements that make up their personality type. "It is very difficult to identify occupations that are right for you if you're unsure about who you are," states Gonyea. "Unfortunately, the realization that you're in the wrong job doesn't usually come until after you've been there for a while, which in time leads some to make a change."

Still others have grown tired of the threat to financial and career security that decades of downsizing have brought. Many have sought refuge in entrepreneurship or family matters. Meanwhile technology has created new possibilities and careers only imagined five years ago, opening the door to new vocational possibilities, says Gonyea.

Stress is a major reason for discontent in the workplace and costs employers an estimated $150 billion to $200 billion annually, according to the Society for Human Resource Management in Alexandria, Virginia. In response, more companies are recognizing that employees are more productive if they are given a chance to periodically take time off while focusing on personal priorities.

As a result, sabbaticals are becoming popular. They allow employees time to reflect on their careers and the overall operation of the business, away from the daily pressures of the office. With a three-, six-, or twelve-month leave, employees get a break from job stress, and employers get workers who return refreshed and ready to go.

SPOT THE SIGNS

So how do you really know when it's time to make a change? Gonyea offers 10 common road signs. You're feeling:

* bored and unchallenged;

* demeaned and dehumanized;

* as though you're working well beyond your capabilities;

* like an outcast around your coworkers;

* burnt out from emotionally exhausting work;

* seriously and consistently underpaid;

* extensively overqualified;

* unrecognized or unrewarded for your labor;

* that your boss is unrealistic or overly demanding;

* that the job offers little room for personal or professional growth.

If most of these points apply to you, then a change may be in order.

DEVISE A GAME PLAN

The good news: making a change is possible. The bad news: it isn't easy. There is clearly some risk, since few people can shift career gears on a whim and be successful. Therefore you must develop a strategy. Whatever you choose to do, part of that game plan must involve getting your finances in order. That may mean paying off all debt, building a nest egg to last you six months to a year and curtailing expenses. If you're worrying about paying the rent, it's hard to focus on your dreams. Your survival needs cannot dominate your long-term goals.

Look inside yourself to be sure of what you want. Preparing the groundwork entails headwork, legwork and paperwork. You must decide on the specifics of your leave, and do some in-depth research into its costs, benefits and personal and professional feasibility. All in all, consider these goals when negotiating with yourself:

* Determine how much time you want off;

* Establish a budget and pay off any outstanding bills;

* Discuss your decision with family and friends who may be apprehensive of your motives; and

* Set down objectives by asking yourself what you want to accomplish. Just because you are not in the office doesn't mean you're not working. You still need to have goals.

Profiled here are four individuals who made a conscious decision to leave their jobs for more fulfilling pursuits. While they pursued wildly divergent paths, all the subjects agree that making the switch was one of the best decisions they ever made.

Scholar

Terry Caliste walked into the math department at Southern University in 1980 with every intention of dropping out of school. Never mind that two years in the Air Force and four years as general manager of several fast food restaurants should have prepared him for many of life's challenges. Scorched by a failed algebra test, the 23-year-old wanted out.

"You're not dropping out!" shot back Dr. Myrtle Smith, the department chairperson. "It was the symbolic kick in the butt I needed," recalls Caliste, 39, whose necktie of choice today is peppered with algebraic problems. "She taught me how to acquire knowledge and built my confidence in a subject that was intimidating." In a dramatic turn of events, Caliste fell in love with math, and even ended up tutoring others. In three years, he graduated with honors, with a major in mathematics and a minor in computer science.

Two successful college internships at AT&T Bell Laboratories (which later included Bell Communications Research and NYNEX) in Holmdel, New Jersey, opened the doors to a job in quality assurance in 1983. Extremely analytical, Caliste was quickly targeted for the management fast track. AT&T sent him to Iowa State University, where he received a master's in statistics. By 1986, Caliste was troubleshooting problems in technology projects and conducting quality audits and inspections for such clients as MCI and Simi Valley high-tech companies.

Nonetheless, Caliste, a high-spirited man with a contagious smile, missed seeing the familiar light that went on the moment a student grasped a difficult math concept. He longed to pursue his dream of teaching. "I thought that if I didn't leave now, I would be stuck. I was taking risks for these people every day. I wanted to take a risk for me and my family." So in 1992, after nine years as a technical statistician, he "retired" with a $30,000 buyout, nine months' severance pay and modest savings.

For his wife, Margie, 39; who worked part-time as a cashier, daughter, Quashaunda, and son, Terry Jr.--now 21- and 12-years-old, respectively--it meant a lot of belt tightening. "I was humble enough to tak some great steps back financially--we ate a lot of beans," jokes Caliste, who loves the Creole cooking of his New Orleans home

However, his mother was horrified, and friends thought Caliste was crazy to leave the security of a family in jeopardy to work show and video as an adjunct math teacher. All combined, his salary from tWo local colleges and private tutoring classes totaled $25,000 a year at best.

While he was happy teaching, the classroom allowed Caliste to reach only 20 or 30 students at a time. He wanted a larger audience. In 1993, without fancy bells or whistles, just a blackboard, some chalk and loads of enthusiasm, Caliste launched his company, Knowledge Base, in Red Bank, New Jersey. He conducted math seminars and workshops in schools across the country, and soon launched the show Knowledge Base on New Jersey public access television.

His income slowly increased, yet Caliste began to feel as though he had run his course. "I had reached the curve that made me a man in this business. I cried some nights about the sacrifice I had made and reached a point where most people bail out." His only inspiration was the 60-70 phone calls and hundreds of letters he received each week from thankful parents. They made him press on.

Today, Knowledge Base is broadcast in more than 3 million New Jersey and Louisiana households. The show won a Cable Television Network Award in 1995 and was recognized as the No. 1 public-access show in New Jersey. Called the "Pied Piper of Math," Caliste developed a four-part video series in 1995, Mind Over Math, which provides problem-solving strategies and techniques to help increase standardized test scores.

"To the kids, I'm entertainment, but when I say SAT scores, Mom and Dad listen because then I'm talking about their child's future," states Caliste, adding that the SAT scores of hundreds of his "students" have increased by more than 75 points.

Now, with '96 revenues of more than $100,000 and five investors, Caliste would like to take his show national. "Granted, I might not have done everything right, but I wanted my decision to have a positive effect," he adds. "Math is a universal subject that transcends all races and people. By making it uncomplicated, I knew I could offer something to everyone."

Parent

"Take a piece of candy for you and one for your brother," says Janice Glenn Kershaw, 38, to her son, Matthew. To a five-year-old, the number one is relative.

Clack! Clack!, against the floor go the brightly-wrapped hard candies that won't fit in Matthew's tiny hand. Mom gently coaxes her son to surrender half of his bounty. Content with four, Matthew scurries off to share them with his three-year-old brother, Philip.

Kershaw knew such negotiation skills would be par for the course when she left her job at a major Washington, D.C., university in 1991. Matthew was four months old when she returned to work. The former associate director of affirmative action asked her boss for a flexible work schedule so she could have more time at home. Her job, which entailed investigating complaints and developing training programs, "didn't require me to be in the office every day. I wanted to arrange to work at home two or three days a week," recalls the Upper Marlboro, Maryland-resident. Her request was denied.

She had a long discussion with her husband, John, 40, an Air Force pilot at the time and now a Lt. Colonel and military aide to the assistant secretary of defense at the Pentagon. Before Matthew's birth, they considered all possible child care options, including a nanny, but at more than $1,000 a month, it was unrealistic. Kershaw was uncomfortable with homecare providers, afraid that they wouldn't be able to provide individualized attention since they are allowed to care for up to six children at a time in the state of Maryland. Nor would day care centers provide the attention and environment the Kershaws wanted for their son. The decision was easy: the best person to care for their young son was his mother. Her aunt baby sat for seven weeks before Kershaw walked away from a job that paid in the mid-$40,000 range--severing the family income almost in half.

"We quickly realized that life as we knew it was over," says Kershaw. "We were prepared to downsize. With solid long- and short-term investments, low debt and some money in the bank, the Kershaws hunkered down for the long haul. That meant limited dinners out, less travel, cloth diaper service, breast-feeding and homemade baby food Her sisters, both teachers, contributed generously to the over-300 children's books the boys have. A boxfull of outfits would arrive "every so often" from Kershaw's mother.

Kershaw, a native of Orangeburg, South Carolina--where she met her husband of 10 years--dispels the myth that working in the home means not working at all. Since her husband's transfer from Albuquerque, New Mexico to Andrews Air Force Base in 1989, Kershaw has been quite busy. Today her days are spent keeping her sons occupied with educational activities and art projects and getting Matthew ready for preschool before embarking on her daily errands. It's not uncommon for Kershaw and the boys to visit her husband at work for lunch or dinner.

Her home is regularly filled with preschoolers. No stickler about territory, Kershaw says her entire home is for her children. Any doubts? One need only to take notice of the drawing pad and easel that holds permanent residence in the breakfast nook next to the miniature kitchen set. On special occasions, such as birthday parties, "weed and mud soup," made by Philip, can sometimes be found in the backyard.

To maintain her skills and stay in the loop, Kershaw stays in touch with old colleagues. "I keep up with trends and let them know how I've been keeping my resume `warm."'

One way that she has been keeping it warm is by consulting various organizations on human resource issues. For her, one of the biggest challenges is that "people don't feel they have to pay you what you're worth because you are not in the workforce," notes this graduate of Winthrop University in Rock Hill, South Carolina, who has a master's degree in public administration from New York University. Eventually, when her sons are in school full-time, Kershaw would like to either work in an organization that supports the family or start her own business.

"Some women say they wish they could afford to make the decision to stay home. Others never tire of asking me when am I going back to work," says Kershaw. But affordability is relative for this mother who takes seriously the raising of two African American males in this society. "We can never afford it all," she says, "but I can afford the value of my time and the impact it will have on the lives of my children."

Rebel

When Charles Howard took a job with Sun Oil in 1978, fresh out of Southern Methodist University Law School, he planned to stay two years--max. Afterwards, he would pursue his real interest, criminal law. But two years turned into five, and eight years later, Howard was still drafting agreements and exploration leases.

In 1986, the former track star dislocated his kneecap while playing basketball and was sidelined for a month. It gave him a lot of time to think about his life. "If I was going to make a move, I had to do it then," recalls the 45-year-old Howard. "I wasn't sure what I wanted to do, but I knew my job wasn't giving me what I needed." Soon after returning to work, Howard paid off some bills and cashed in his company stock options. With six months' salary in the bank, he said good-bye to his $49,000-a-year job.

He "enjoyed life" for the next six months. When he wasn't going to the gym or riding his bike, he was traveling throughout the U.S., Mexico or the Caribbean. However, his physical and spiritual retreat was periodically interrupted by a Greek chorus of friends and family. "They would say, `Don't you think it's time to go back to work?' They were afraid I would start to drift," says the Dallas-native. But even Howard had to admit he was becoming bored. "The experience was great, but I soon realized that what we do in our jobs helps to define who we are. I felt as though I was losing my identity," he recalls. Even socializing was met with trepidation as he tried to avoid the most commonly asked icebreaker, "What do you do?"

Soon after, he began working parttime as a court-appointed attorney, living out his dream of practicing criminal law--or so he thought. It paid the bills but the personal fulfillment he yearned for was absent. ' Reluctantly, he decided to go back to corporate America.

By January 1987, the oil industry had taken a plunge. The arena he thought he could always return to had dried up, offering few opportunities. Anxiety began to mount as his job hunt dragged on longer than he had expected. Howard wondered if he had done the right thing in leaving. A year after breaking with Sun Oil, he joined Hexter-Fair, a now defunct Dallas real estate firm, as a staff attorney. Two years later Howard was disillusioned with corporate America--once again.

A magazine ad for a sports management program at Kent State turned his life around. In May 1990, Howard packed up and headed to Ohio for the one year master's program. He had finally found his calling.

On a full scholarship, Howard lived off of savings and the $500-a-month stipend he received as a graduate assistant. He interned with the National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA) in Kansas for a year. A professor suggested he consider college athletics and, in 1991, he took a job with his alma mater as assistant athletic director in charge of compliance. "I love it!," says Howard who combines his love of sports with law by ensuring that the university, its athletes and coaches comply with NCAA rules.

"I could have made more money in the legal arena, but personal happiness is more important," says Howard of his $52,000-a-year job. "I'm willing to sacrifice some income for peace of mind. But you never know unless you take a chance."

Entrepreneur

It was only natural that Wanda James would one day own a restaurant. An Army brat, the 33-year-old James grew up under the watchful eyes of her single-parent father, and spent countless days eating out. She followed her father's military path. After graduating from the University of Colorado in Boulder in 1986 with a degree in computer science and communications, she served four-and-a-half years as a naval intelligence lieutenant.

Years of military food only heightened her appreciation for restaurants and fine dining. After her tour-of-duty, James moved to New York City and made plans to open a wine bar. But "on one of those cold November days in New York, the sun didn't shine and I moved to Los Angeles," recalls James. Still determined to open her wine bar, she continued to craft her business plan, take wine-tasting lessons and speak to a host of wine wholesalers about price points.

Aware that she had to eat before she could drink, she parlayed her experience as a minority recruitment officer in the Navy into a sales consultant position at Unum Insurance in Los Angeles. Two years later in 1992, she became a marketing consultant for Avery Denison, the office products company. But by 1994, she had grown restless. "I wasn't growing any more and realized that I had gotten all I could get from corporate America," says James. "I did well in my job, but there came a point when the lack of promotions and limited job responsibilities said `little black girl, you're not going any further.'"

In November 1995, fiance and future business partner, Scott Durrah, prompted her to talk to Elizabeth Spencer, owner of the Jamaican Cafe in Santa Monica, California. What began as a discussion about the day-to-day operations of running a restaurant turned into an offering. During their conversation, Spencer mentioned that she wanted to sell the restaurant. Having always believed that "luck is when opportunity meets preparedness," James' wheels started turning.

The four-year-old Jamaican Cafe had established a solid word-of-mouth reputation for its fine Caribbean cuisine. But its diner-like decor was in need of a makeover, and a full-fledged marketing strategy had to be developed. For three months, James and Durrah, a Beverly Hills property manager, worked on a business plan. "We went through all the numbers to determine where to cut costs and increase profits. It was one of the greatest learning experiences of my life," says James.

The plan was two-and-a-half-inches thick and the venture itself required $150,000 in start-up capital. By borrowing from credit cards and family and liquidating their savings, they raised the $50,000 needed for the closing. "Some of our friends and family members were against our decision," say James. "They kept reminding me that 58% of all restaurants fail within the first year. All my father could see was his daughter, who had always had good, stable jobs with expense accounts, going off on this tangent."

That didn't stand in her way. She kept her job at Avery, while an accountant and contractors--all close friends--waited in the wings for the loan to be approved. By August 1996, the wait was over. "We closed the deal on Friday, gutted the restaurant over the weekend, laid the last floor tile at 6:55 p.m. on Monday and had the opening at 7:30 p.m.," remembers James.

She had intended to keep her $76,000a-year job with Avery for at least the first year of the business, but the enormous demands of running the restaurant forced her to quit three months later. The Jamaican Cafe, with its staff of 12 and seating for 65, quickly acquired a following, including such celebrities as the Wayans Brothers, Roseanne Barr and Michael Keaton. Within the cafe's sponged gold walls and wooden shell-carved chairs, diners savor such specialties as the Escoveitched Snapper and Conch Fritters.

"If I had to do it all over again, I would pay off all my personal debt first," says James. This problem, however, may soon be rectified if revenues reach the projected target of $40,000 a month, which includes 30% in profits.

Her bottom line advice: "If you find yourself miserable, count your blessings. It may prompt you to do something about it."