Growing up, I could not wait to get a job. I could not wait to have my own money and know that I worked for what I had. I could not wait to support myself. For most of my childhood, life was not a bed of roses. We had very little and did not have the option to ask for more. Many of my family members remained unaware of the specifics of growing up in my household, and we had to do without, to say the least. I will not go into specifics. Needless to say, I dreamed of financial stability.
After finishing my senior year of playing the sport I loved, I applied for my first job, and luckily the company I interviewed for offered the job that I thankfully accepted. I was so excited to start my job and make the best of it even if it was a fast food job. The second day I worked, the power went out, and unfortunately, we were unable to leave. During the hours of wait time, I heard from managers the horrors of my boss and the horrific acts she committed. Despite these warnings, I willed myself to stick it out for the financial aspect if nothing else.
However, for the past five years, I worked under a tyrant. She did as she pleased, and she did not care about who was in her path as long as she was secure in every way. If she was mad at you, she cut your hours. If she cut your hours, she expected you to suck up to her. If you didn’t, the less she liked you. I hated it. My thought process was, "If I am doing something wrong, tell me! DO NOT let me continue to do something wrong and cut my hours because of something I was unsure of." Continuing, she would cut an employee’s hours if she didn’t get her bonus, if labor was bad, if management did not do their job, the list goes on and on.
So many unjust acts occurred during my time there. So many employees have come and gone that I lost count. At the time when I left, only two people were there that were employed when I first started. I am writing this not to slam my boss, but to mention how my former boss killed my work ethic. She killed my hope of entering into a job that I could be proud of. I loved my job when I first started, and I loved to work. Not just the easy stuff, but actual hard work. I would work doubles and come in when I was supposed to be off because that’s how much I loved my job and wanted to be an employee that not only I could be proud of, but also that my boss could be proud of! But she killed it. I will never have that "work innocence" that I once had. I now know that working can entail mental depression, mental scrutiny, back stabbing and just pure hatefulness. But now I want to say thank you. Thank you for putting me through hell and back and pushing me to the point to where I quit because hey, I got out, and you are still stuck in eternal Hell on Earth.
