Tag: stress

Posted in Life, Uncategorized

Taking Risks: Lessons Learned from a Failing Job

Posted on by jennrae
Daily writing prompt
When is the last time you took a risk? How did it work out?
View all responses

The last time I took a risk? Technically I take risks everyday I get into my vehicle. Every time I go into an establishment. Is it a life or death risk? Most of the time no. Sometimes the risk is more to my pocketbook, or my peace of mind.

As far as major risks, one of the more recent ones would have been quitting my job at the bank to try my hand at being a domestic violence advocate. I didn’t work out as intended. I found out I wasn’t a very good advocate and sometimes things work out how they are meant to.

Things were stagnant at the bank, and I knew there were things I didn’t like about it. Mostly it was the insane pressure we were under to upsell to our customers. This wasn’t conducive to real customer service, which I prided myself on. As an institution, we patted ourselves on the bank for not needing a bailout during the housing crisis, only to be hit by a crisis of our own design. The fake account scandal. I am not naming the institution but I am sure you could figure it out if you wanted to.

I got out pre-scandal but was not surprised when it hit. I cashed in my 401k before it took the hit and used it as a down payment on my car. The risk was walking away from a job I know I could do for a job I had no experience in. I had practical experience as someone that experienced domestic violence first hand, but not as an advocate. I didn’t have the bureaucracy experience, the know how of navigating social nets and DSHS, and other institutions.

I was trained to be agreeable and not push the envelope from my childhood as a middle child and a shy girl that had trouble making friends. I wasn’t combative enough, or aggressive enough to really do much for my clients. The organization, which I won’t name, was by far the most toxic workplace I had ever been in. It made me miss the camaraderie of the bank. Sadly, the bank was the last job where I felt like I had a group of people I could enjoy spending time with outside of work. I haven’t found that since.

I ended up getting fired as an advocate. I actually saw a therapist a few times before that, and she said I needed to quit my job, that it was not mentally good for me. Triggering my past experiences and also experiencing workplace bullying from the boss on a daily basis was taking a toll. The irony of being bullied at a domestic violence advocacy center is not lost on me. Being fired was the best outcome as I couldn’t effectively help myself let alone anyone else.

My only regret was not quitting sooner. The bully forced a hug on me and said some b.s. about me being all right and being okay. I was a single mother of a young child who got no child support at the time. It was extremely scary being unemployed. Her hug was a forced thing, I recoiled and stiffened, and I did not consent to it. It was awkward and awful, and was the final insult. I am sure it was a control thing, a final hah, I determine your fate and you suck.

She eroded any confidence I had daily with disparaging remarks and public humiliations by singling me out at meetings and disparaging my work in front of my co workers. She didn’t allow me to learn anything, because she told me repeatedly that she didn’t trust my judgment which made me doubt myself, and not believe in my own judgment.

I still catch myself doubting how I think and my rationale because she would tell me daily how I didn’t think like a normal person and that my decision making was faulty. I think she wanted to get rid of me to pay for new windows.

I took a risk, it didn’t pan out, but now I know what I don’t want to do. I was also heavily encouraged to donate a part of my paycheck back to the organization, which was basically volunteering for a smaller paycheck. I wasn’t wealthy, or well to do. What a garbage organization!

I got discouraged by the sheer amount of grift it enabled as well. So many hotel stays for people who chose to use it for drugs and to invite their abusers to stay with them. I can’t think of anyone we actually helped except maybe some of the kids during the holidays.

I ended up getting a better paying job by hitting the pavement daily. I applied everywhere and went to the unemployment office every single day to work on my resume. It was hard work finding work. Luckily, I had a lot of people from the bank where I worked and at previous jobs I was on good terms with that helped. Needless to say, I didn’t use the advocacy place for anything, but had to explain my firing which was another obstacle to work around.

Ultimately, I got the job where I still am. It will be ten years in June. It isn’t fun and it has its issues. But the pay is decent and it allows me to live and doesn’t feel precarious or uncertain. I guess it feels stable and safe, which is enough for me right now. It is a union job which makes me feel like I have some protection from management if I need it.

So I guess I ended up in a better place after all, just not how I pictured it. Sometimes the path you end up taking is more of a winding one than a straight line. Either way it is your way, how you get there you don’t always know or plan for. I am still learning to believe in myself and in the possibilities. In a way I feel like I am just getting started, it just took me a long time to get here.

Posted in Fiction, Uncategorized, Writing

The Problem —A Character Study

Posted on by jennrae

The nightmare was about over when she laid the test face down at the front of the room, shuffling out the door shouldering a book bag that was lighter than it should have been. She knew she was failing geometry. Math was not her specialty. She cared less about school every year, as she felt her soul slipping away slowly, painfully, drifting away from its purpose.

Nothing seemed real, or important. She would watch the news at night talking about possible nuclear war, and people starving in some country across the world with the deep cynicism of one far removed from it all. She imagined the bomb going off and not having to explain to her parents her failure in geometry. It almost would be a relief, if only it was painless, and quick.

A post nuclear world seemed strangely interesting and a world that she would want to explore in a video game, or a comic book, or even a movie. In reality, perhaps not. I’m sure a resident of Nagasaki during World War II would probably love to switch with her and have a failing grade instead of all the radiation and cancer and sudden death.

What was it a friend of hers always said? First World Problems. Yeah, it makes everyone who complains about slow internet, or waiting in line to buy new shoes feel like a jerk. Some big eyed waif in some third world country someplace was doing hard labor without shoes, and here she was in ‘Ross Dress For Less’ cursing at a long wait while she buys a pair of zebra striped patent leather heels.

First world problems, indeed. Meanwhile, she would go to school, go to bed, and wake up to go to school while both her parents worked during the day and were tired in the evening. She had a younger brother that had some special issues that seemed to take their time, and she felt like an afterthought. Someone that was background noise. Until she screwed up, but that wasn’t the kind of attention she wanted. She would rather be background noise.

She had saved up for those zebra striped heels from babysitting a cousin who was in that age bracket where they are too old to be a baby but too young for real school.

It was hard work because the little guy had a ton of energy and could completely destroy a room in a matter of minutes.  Plus, he put everything in his mouth, so she had to watch him carefully. Balancing that with school work and studying was hard.

School used to be easy for her, but this year she felt suddenly stupid. She couldn’t concentrate and found herself slipping from the room while the teacher’s voice became a constant drone like a hive of bees. She felt so incredibly tired.

Finally, her teacher cornered her the next day as she was attempting to sneak out. “Natalie, wait a moment will you? I want to speak to you.” She gulped and sat at the nearest desk watching the others file out the door, some looking at her blankly, most not even looking at her. She had become invisible to most.

“Okay, come here my dear, just sit down.” Mrs. Grimble got up and shut the door after the last student had left, leaving the room to just Natalie and herself. “Okay,  you need to tell me what is going on with you. I see you struggling. Coming in late, not turning in homework. I can see it in your face. Is everything all right at home?”

“This is about the test, isn’t it?” She said tiredly.

Mrs. Grimble looked her in the eye, and pulled out her test from a drawer, handing it out to her.

“I think it is more than that. I looked at your records from last year, and I can see a drastic difference in your work. I hope you know I want what is best for you, and I hope you feel you can trust me. I just want to help you.”

Natalie looked down at the desk, and then eyed the wall clock ticking away. “I think I will be late for my next class, Mrs. Grimble.”

“I talked to your other teachers. We do compare notes on occasion. And, it is the same story. There is something going on. We can see it. You just aren’t really present in class. Would you like to speak with the counselor? Would that be helpful?”

“I do not know what’s wrong. I guess I feel like I have to be perfect all the time. And, no one likes me. I feel stupid this year. I just can’t think. I am just so tired. I just want to sleep and not wake up.”

Mrs. Grimble looked horrified, and concerned all at once. Natalie wanted to shove her desk over and scatter all the pens and pencils onto the floor. She suddenly felt anger toward her for all the fake sympathy, the pity.

She didn’t want sympathy, or pity. She was all alone, and everyone seemed false and fake. She didn’t trust Mrs. Grimble. She didn’t trust anyone. She did have a secret, but she wouldn’t share it here, not with anyone at the school.

“I think dear, that we should schedule you with an appointment, to see Mrs. Fenton. It can’t hurt, right?”

“You want me to reassure you, Mrs. Grimble? Or is this your way of asking my permission?” Mrs. Grimble was jotting something down on a pink slip and she slid it across the desk toward Natalie.

“Are you going to tell my parents? I don’t want them to be bothered with this.”

“Don’t you think they should know that something is bothering you?”

Natalie looked at the slip in front of her, not reaching out to take it.

“It would just make them worry about me. I don’t want to be a burden. I don’t want them to fret or worry about me. They have their hands full dealing with Brian.”

“How is your brother doing, Natalie?”

“As good as can be expected for someone who is slowly dying. He takes all their time when they aren’t working, and they worry over him, and sometimes they get hopeful. Then other times things are bleak. I am tired of the roller coaster at this point. I just wish a miracle would happen, or it would be over. Sometimes I hate him. Isn’t that terrible? I am a horrible person aren’t I?”

“No, dear. You have a lot on your shoulders right now. Maybe you should just take a leave from school. It would be hard to catch up, but I can talk to the principle and the counselor, and we can explain the situation…”

“No, I don’t want to take a leave. I just want things to be easy again. I don’t want to be stuck in the house watching my brother all the time. Watching him slowly get worse. Just watching. I’d rather be bored out of my mind here.”

“Natalie, you want to graduate with your class, right?”

She said nothing. Mrs. Grimble pushed the paper a little closer to Natalie. “Take it. Go to Mrs. Fenton. It can’t hurt.”

Natalie reluctantly took it, and lifted her bag and didn’t say another word. Mrs. Grimble watched her leave and began composing an email on her computer.