Patrick Pichette, Google’s Chief Financial Officer, has quit his job in order to go and find himself.

And in doing so, he has revealed his poet’s soul.

In a resignation letter published on CEO Larry Page’s Google Plus page, Pichette says that this summer he will have completed thirty years of “non-stop work”. He goes on to say, in self-deprecating manner, that he is a member of the FWIO, or Fraternity of Worldwide Insecure Over-achievers.

The decision to quit his job was motivated, he says, by his wife of 25 years, Tamar. The couple were sitting on top of Mount Kilimanjaro.

“And Tamar out of the blue said ‘Hey, why don’t we just keep on going’. Let’s explore Africa, and then turn east to make our way to India, it’s just next door, and we’re here already. Then, we keep going; the Himalayas, Everest, go to Bali, the Great Barrier Reef… Antarctica, let’s go see Antarctica!?” Little did she know, she was tempting fate.

“I remember telling Tamar a typical prudent CFO type response: I would love to keep going, but we have to go back. It’s not time yet, There is still so much to do at Google, with my career, so many people counting on me/us – Boards, Non Profits, etc.

“But then she asked the killer question: ‘So when is it going to be time? Our time? My time?'”

Back at work, Pichette couldn’t get that thought out of his head. Was there another life waiting for him, beyond the walls of the Googleplex? A life of freedom and adventure?

So now, says Pichette, he and his wife are going to do a Jack Kerouac.

“I could not find a good argument to tell Tamar we should wait any longer for us to grab our backpacks and hit the road – celebrate our last 25 years together by turning the page and enjoy a perfectly fine mid life crisis full of bliss and beauty.”

He ends his note with the words “carpe diem”.

The comments underneath the article show that Mr Pichette has hit a nerve. “Well done for casting off the shackles of corporate slavery,” they say (you can read the full text and the comments here).

Mr Pichette, we salute you and wish you happiness in your wanderings. If you’d like to write a diary about your new life, it will find a happy home on the pages of the Idler.

ENDS