After being self-employed most of my adult life, I got a “real job” when I was in my late 40’s. Though I had developed a pretty steady roster of freelance marketing clients, I was feeling the time was right to go for a regular paycheck, health insurance and benefits, plus I was craving the ability to “turn off” work at the end of the day. I accepted a job with a small not-for-profit organization with a great mission that was easy to get behind. It seemed to be a fabulous place to work and I was super-excited about the next chapter in my life.
For several months, I thought it was my dream job – a rare opportunity to get paid to do things I loved, utilize my diverse skill set and creativity and support a great cause. As a bonus, my co-workers were friendly and awesome and my team was ridiculously talented and dedicated. I couldn’t wait to come into the office every day.
Every relationship has it’s honeymoon phase, right?
The first signs of trouble came when I realized that communication between departments had become difficult because it was all funneling through my supervisor. We were often given wildly different messages, or not given critical information at all. We sometimes found out months after the fact that we had been doing some basic function wrong and everyone was aware of it except us. It was difficult to know who to trust. Not surprisingly, certain departments became pitted against each other, and some managers became pretty hostile and combative towards their coworkers. It was frustrating, and I couldn’t pin down why it was happening for the life of me.
Another strange development: The better my department performed, the more hostile upper management became towards us. We increased sales 31% in our first year, we introduced new events and programs, retooled our pricing to increase profitability and generally revamped the entire department from the ground up. We created magic out of thin air and by any normal workplace standards we were high-performing record-setting bad-ass rockstars. Inexplicably, we were treated like we were doing something wrong. There seemed to be a whole agenda and secret set of rules that we were not privy to.
When I was hired I was told they were looking for sales growth and fresh new ideas. When I delivered those things they decided they were a lot more comfortable with the status quo.
My team often joked that we had fallen down Alice’s rabbit hole, or were operating in some alternate universe where normal rules don’t apply. There were many days we were sure we were being gaslighted.
The culture was very Trumpian. There was a loose connection with the truth, no transparency and zero regard for the quality of life, safety and working conditions of the people on the ground. Upper management would frequently do a 180-degree turn on an issue, and rather than copping to it and say, “We’ve changed direction on this” they would imply that the mistake was yours.
The sense that you might be losing your mind is not a comfortable feeling, you know?
I intended to put at least 5 years in, but that goal decreased steadily over time. It dropped to three years, then it got to the point where I was just trying to make it to my one-year anniversary. When I hit that, I promised myself I would white-knuckle it to two years and then look for something else. Sometimes, my focus shifted to just getting through the day without completely losing my shit.
The final straw came in a completely unexpected way.
We weren’t given adequate budgets for necessary purchases and sometimes there was no budget at all, so it was common for managers to purchase what they needed. They would turn the receipts in at the end of the year and receive a donation letter for their taxes. I was happy to spend my own money in order to get the items I needed for my events, and the tax deduction scenario worked fine for me. I followed the procedure I was given by my supervisor and the CEO and the historical precedent we had at that time. My supervisor often shopped for these items with me and one or the other of us would pay for the supplies. Mid-way through the year, the CEO ordered us to get an offsite storage unit to house my purchases because she felt our office was looking too cluttered.
Inner-city school teachers often purchase classroom supplies out of their own pocket so they are able to do their jobs, and it was kind of like that. I knew it wasn’t an ideal situation and I certainly wasn’t being paid enough to absorb these expenses, but there didn’t seem to be another option. Because I still had some freelance clients on the side, the idea of a donation letter was appealing because it would help offset my tax bill.
When I turned my receipts in, I didn’t think anything of it. I assumed I would get a letter within a few days, turn it into my tax guy and that would be that. I was shocked when my request came back with a demand for photo documentation of each item to be submitted “for consideration”. I had to prove I really brought these items in when it was already well documented and certainly no secret. In some cases, I had executed an annual event twice that simply wouldn’t have been possible without the supplies I purchased. If the donations were not approved I was directed to take them home.
To be clear, what they were suggesting was that I dig nearly 1000 items out of various storage areas, photograph them and match them up with the receipts. Snapping a quick pic at the time I bought them wouldn’t have been a big deal (and I would have been happy to if anyone had mentioned it), but at this point, it would have taken several weeks of dedicated effort to complete the task. I’m not sure what the plan was for processing 1000 photos on their end – our accounting team would have lost their minds had I attempted to actually deliver this ridiculous mountain of “documentation”.
TO RECAP:
- They created a rule that only applied to me.
- They didn’t tell me about the rule until it was too late to comply with it.
- It cost me thousands of dollars.
- It attacked my integrity.
I read and reread the email in stunned disbelief. I took 24 hours to think about it and discuss it with my work team and my partner at home. I have a lot of friends who work in the non-profit world and I ran the situation by them. Everyone was incredulous. The response was, “Wait – you weren’t trying to get reimbursed?? You just wanted to a tax letter? Whaaaaaat???” I didn’t feel I had any choice to but to resign.
I began removing everything I had purchased the following day. It took over a week of packing my car to the gills every day and loading up my partner’s pick-up truck a few times too. Once I had it all out, I submitted my resignation letter. I was summoned to the conference room to explain why I was leaving, and I didn’t mince words. I was polite and professional, but I told them I couldn’t in good conscience work for an organization that would attack my integrity, especially given my exemplary job performance and track record.
There was a lot of sputtering disbelief. Apparently, it didn’t occur to anyone that deciding not to accept donations that had already been in use for a year might result in losing one of their highest performing employees.
I gave them 4 weeks of notice. It was important to me to do the right thing by my employees and my clients because at its core this was an integrity issue.
I adore my team, and I spent the time working diligently to transition everything over to them. Leaving just before our busy season ramped up was not ideal, and not something I would do under normal circumstances. Luckily, they understood and supported my decision 100%. I wanted to be thorough, tie up all my loose ends and make sure everything continued as smoothly as possible for my clients. Somehow, this threw upper management for a loop. Because I was honest about why I was leaving and it wasn’t under nice circumstances, apparently they expected me to exit a la Angela Bassett in “Waiting to Exhale”.
The problem is, I truly give a shit about the projects I get involved with. I care that my work is the best it can be. I want my clients, guests, and employees to have the best experience possible. I try to create magic whenever I can.
This personality trait serves me well working with a functional group or for myself, but it’s a disaster when I’m dropped into a dysfunctional organization. I allowed this craziness to consume me because I couldn’t make sense of it…and I like things to make sense. I gave it an honest effort, but unfortunately, I’m just not wired to show up, punch the clock and not worry about my work environment being batshit crazy.
Part of me felt guilty about quitting because by nature I’m not a quitter. I mean, lots of people deal with unreasonable work situations every single day and they manage to power through it, right? So why couldn’t I? Was I the crazy one?
It helped to remind myself that the turnover rate is sky high at this organization for a reason. Obviously, developing some healthier coping skills wouldn’t hurt, but I wasn’t the first talented and passionate employee to leave and I certainly won’t be the last.
The other conversation I was having in my head was about my age. I turned 50 in April and the idea that I probably have about 20 years left of being healthy enough to do what I want with my life was never far from my thoughts. My first 50 years had gone by in the blink of an eye…did I want to spend my remaining time beating my head against a wall?
My last week rolled around and I said my goodbyes to the other departments and my clients, which was gut-wrenching.
I ghosted out of my office mid-afternoon on Friday so I wouldn’t have to say goodbye to my assistant, who is one of my favorite people on earth. I was ugly-crying by the time I got to my car in the parking lot and I didn’t stop for the next 5 or 6 hours. They were the kind of deep, soul-wracking sobs usually reserved for a painful relationship break up. I literally could not stop crying and I even threw up a few times. The worst part was, I couldn’t explain or even understand why I was so upset. After all, it was my decision, right? All I knew was that it felt like a death.
On Monday I expected some residual sadness after my massive meltdown, but the sun was shining and it felt like a dark cloud had lifted…a whole new beginning with so many possibilities. I planned on taking a week or so to pin my psyche back together, eating Ben & Jerry’s in bed and wallowing – but I just didn’t need to. I was astonished to realize that everything had changed almost instantaneously – it was like I snapped my fingers and my entire life got a reboot. I didn’t realize how negatively my job was affecting me until I got out.
I immediately started sleeping 7-8 hours a night with no OTC help. For the past year, it was rare for me to get more than 4-5 hours of fitful rest each night. Do you know how amazing it feels to sleep through the night for the first time in forever? It is GLORIOUS my friends! I often came home from work so drained that it was all I could do not to crawl into bed at 6pm, but suddenly I had energy to spare.
When you are in an environment where your ideas are continuously shot down, you eventually stop coming up with new ideas. Within a couple of days, my creativity came back like a rusty faucet suddenly being turned on. I was back to a steady flow of imaginative ideas and clever solutions – and I can’t tell you how good it feels to flex those muscles again.
Stress-eating disappeared completely and self-medicating with wine all but vanished. Enjoying a drink in the evening is one thing, but needing a drink before you’ve even taken your shoes off is something else altogether. Not surprisingly I packed on the pounds during my time at the organization, but it started to fall off within a couple of weeks without a lot of effort on my part. My daily tension headaches vaporized.
As I was running errands and picking up groceries I realized I had been walking around angry and tense for the past year. I began smiling again and chatting with strangers I encountered during my day, which felt really good. It turns out, it’s a whole lot easier to be a friendly, decent human being when you’re not a walking knot of stress and worry.
I was able to begin thinking about this blog again and picked up a book for the first time in a year. I reconnected with friends. No more responding to work-related text and phone calls at all hours of the day and night either…whooo-hoooooo!
I realized something during this process…a toxic job is very much like an abusive personal relationship (something I have experience with). In the beginning, you are denial about what’s happening and you make excuses for the bad behavior. You mistakenly think you can “fix” the problems. “Bad days” are always followed by “good days”, which makes you remember what you loved about the person/job in the first place and it makes you hopeful that it will get better. But eventually, you wake up and realize that you barely recognize the person you’ve become and that’s when you have to get the hell out.
There is an analogy for domestic abuse that I learned during the time I served on the board of directors for a battered women’s shelter that has always stuck with me:
If you drop a frog in boiling water, he will jump out immediately.
But, if you bring it up to a slow boil the frog will stay in and boil to death.
It’s true of abusive relationships and it’s also true of toxic work environments – they never start out terrible, but by the time you realize it’s a problem the situation is probably dire.
I’m not going to lie, I’m terrified about what comes next. There is no safety net. I have a few small freelance clients I’m taking care of, but mostly I’m going to be dependent on my partner financially, which is not something I would have imagined in my wildest dreams a few months ago. I’ve done that just one other time in my life and it was the first 2 years of my son’s life – and he’s almost 25 now.
But, every sign is pointing to this being exactly the right decision. I’m retooling, regrouping, and creating a brand-new roadmap for my life.
In related news, I’m also trying to figure out what the heck to do with the mountain of themed event supplies that are piled up throughout the entire main floor of my house.
Not to sound too woo-woo/new age-y, but it actually feels like my mind has expanded and opened up in the last couple of weeks.
And no…I am not experimenting with hallucinogenic drugs.
The possibilities are limitless, right?
If you find yourself in a toxic work situation, my advice is this – GET OUT. Right now. It’s not worth the damage you’re doing to your physical and mental health. If you can’t replace your job with another full-time gig, come up with a temporary plan. Free-lance, take a couple part-time jobs. Do whatever you have to do to get yourself out. Removing the source of so much stress and anxiety will change your life in very profound ways, and I promise you will be amazed at the difference.
Have you ever had a toxic job? What happened after you left? I’m interested to hear about it in the comments.
