The Perplexity of Praise: Life After Workplace Trauma
Existing in a Healthy Work Environment Has Left Me Feeling Lost
To be lost is as legitimate a part of your process as being found.” — Alex Ebert.
Before
“You really need to do better…” he profoundly proclaimed as I sat at my desk, my eyes brimming with tears. It was a familiar scene, one that played out multiple times a week, in various corners of the workplace-at my desk, in the freezer, bathroom, and parking lot.
In the words of Dr. Taylor Alison Swift, I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending.
It would be the last thing he said to me.
I walked out that day and never went back. It was the second time I’d felt so afflicted that giving any notice felt like a superfluous chore. Working in the service industry, I’ve seen my share of mistreatment by bosses, co-workers, and customers alike.
Changing jobs meant a change of scenery. The experiences, though, were often analogous to the last. The meaningless write-ups were a power play wielded by insecure “leaders” who would instead make you sign a form rather than address the issues. The “constructive feedback” is always filled with malicious intentions. Asking for accommodations for my ADHD only led to more discriminatory practices.
Despite the constant misery, I clung to a relentless drive to succeed. But every time I tried, the goalposts would shift, and I would find myself pushing harder, only to see those with less experience leapfrog ahead.
I was the workplace scapegoat. I got screamed at by management in front of wide-eyed patrons for rinsing a blender. I won’t touch on the mistreatment I was expected to impose on my employees when I became the boss. Being put in a position where you must fight your morals to keep your job can be soul-crushing. The impact of this has ripped through every aspect of my life.
There are many far worse instances than I’ve stated so far. This is a blog, not a novel, so I’ll keep it at that. It’s safe to say that receiving praise or thanks wasn’t a common occurrence.
Workplace culture in the United States is like no other. We live to work, not work to live. Moving up means more money and power, two things that are foundational to American culture. Work is a never-ending competition with your co-workers, where no one wins. Most people who become bosses aren’t great leaders. They are power-hungry oafs looking to climb the corporate ladder. These things combined create a culture that values individualism and apathy.
I never fell into the trap of pulling others down to make myself look better. I was outspoken about issues and defended myself. I wasn’t a rat who would tell on my co-workers for every mistake they made. I believed that if I wanted to get ahead, it would be through my work ethic and effort. This mentality isn’t conducive when surrounded by corporate climbers and bullies who never left the high school hallways.
After
When I left my last job, I was unemployed for six months. I applied for unemployment, but getting it after quitting isn’t easy. I noted my experience and fought the initial determination of being ineligible. I ended up winning my case. It was comforting to know that I wasn’t crazy. What I had experienced wasn’t normal, and my feelings were justified. After being gaslit every day, finally hearing that was a relief. This validation is crucial for anyone who has experienced workplace trauma, as it helps them understand that they are not alone and their feelings are valid.
In my six months of freedom, the hard part came when I had to apply for jobs. It’s hard to put words to what I felt at the time. The visceral fear I felt at the thought of ending up in a similar situation was palpable. I couldn’t do it again. Unemployment is a drop in the bucket compared to what my bills were. The stress of that, coupled with the fear of experiencing a traumatic case of deja vu, was paralyzing.
I didn’t leave the couch for six months. Netflix and Hulu were my lifelines. I let my bills get behind, my credit score dropped, and my house was a mess. I told myself that when the unemployment runs out, I’ll do DoorDash. If I still haven’t found a bearable job, not in the service industry or management, then gig jobs are available. My experiences emotionally and mentally impacted me so much that I destroyed my financial future for many years to come.
Now
After those six months of being in a metaphorical coma, I finally found a job. It’s in a field that I love. A job I’d never thought I’d be able to have without a college degree. Despite my doubts and fears, my time had come. I have excellent benefits like a pension, paid parental leave, twice-a-year pay increases, bonuses, and the best health insurance ever. This transition from the service industry to white-collar work, though a culture shock, is a testament to the resilience and determination that can lead to a better future.
Transitioning from the service industry to white-collar work can be quite a culture shock. It was more of a culture shock than when I moved from the East Coast to the Midwest. (IYKYK). I’m used to the go, go, go work, never stopping until you clock out. Moving to a slower, more self-paced, less supervised atmosphere is a bit of an adjustment.
Working nonstop, doing more than what I get paid for, and crying in walk-ins became second nature to me. Taking breaks, personal time, working at a healthy pace, and having time to breathe are all foreign concepts. Now, I have all of those things, and it fills me with anxiety. I often find myself stressing and second-guessing myself because I don’t think I’m doing enough. I’ve asked for more work with the sound of “If you can lean, you can clean” reverberating through my brain.
I was having a minor issue. I hesitated to bring it up because, in the past, bringing up problems has never done me any good. Often, it hurt me more than it helped. It’s early in the job and I didn’t want to make waves so soon. The topic came up in conversation; I paused as I contemplated how the results of being honest could play out. Feelings of doubt, fear, and concern flooded my mind. It was a trigger. Though It was never indicated that these people were anything like those in my past, I was still riddled with anxiety about what would come next. After much back and forth in my mind, I finally opened up.
I’m heard. I’m seen. The issue is addressed, and everything is fine. It wasn’t an outcome I’m accustomed to. Before, I’d been told that it was not that serious or that it was my fault. It’s a breath of fresh air. Though it was refreshing, I still think I’d struggle to do it again.
I could be brainwashed by the capitalist machine that’s wired to trick us into working harder than really necessary. As such, I’ve done a lot since I started. I’ve received a lot of praise, thanks, and compliments. All of which catch me off guard. My hard work has often gone unnoticed. Now, it’s being acknowledged. Praise is common here, and it’s leaving me quite perplexed.
“What you did is truly amazing and had a lot of impact…” he said. I sat crisscrossed in my chair, feeling aghast as the words I seldom heard flowed from the speaker of my phone. I apprehensively responded, “Thank you.” He went on, and the only response I could muster was an endless stream of thank yous.
Next
I don’t know.
I should probably go back to therapy.
