Toxic Women in a Toxic Workplace
Mom-on-mom crime
In 2020, our beautiful baby girl was born via c-section. I was a double high-risk pregnancy and it took us ten months to conceive, which felt like an eternity. Add a global pandemic to the mix and it was one hell of a year. But immediately after she was born, everything else mattered less and every ounce of my love was absorbed by her seven little pounds. When I got home from the hospital, I didn’t eat for three days. It didn’t occur to me. I was too busy breastfeeding, pumping, making sure there was enough milk for someone else to feed her in the rare occurrence I slept. I watched her every move, making sure she was still breathing while she slept, checking her temperature, distinguishing between her different cries, getting to know this beautiful creature I’d spent months growing. Then I got sick. The sickest I’d ever been in my entire life. The diagnosis? Exhaustion.
Things got better within 48 hours but I scared myself - and my family. Because if I’m not well, I can’t take care of the baby and ensure she’s well. I hadn’t perceived it like this because I thought I was doing what a first-time mother should, pouring my heart and soul into caring for her. When my mom left after a seven week stay and my husband went back to work after a very short five days, I again had to readjust. But as baby and I got to know each other and as I watched her change and grow, I gained confidence in my motherly abilities. It was the most precious time.
Then I made a BIG mistake.
I made a serious decision less than three months after she was born. The head of marketing at my organization asked if I wanted to join her team. I was flattered – this woman was a powerhouse, a female who I thought could possibly be a mentor, someone I could learn from. Plus, I’d have a team! I’d been on my own as a communications professional for so long, I thought it would be great to work more closely with people whose skills complemented mine. I thought I’d have room to advance and grow, which is what I had always aimed to do in my career. But I was in a different stage of life now, tending to a newborn in the middle of a pandemic. I didn’t yet have childcare and was terrified to let anybody in the house. I had reservations and was nervous I would fail or let people down – two things I hate in life. I had a few calls with her and my boss-to-be and expressed my concerns. They assured me they too were working mothers and understood and not to worry about failing and they’ll support me. So I took the job… and very quickly regretted it.
Foreign projects were thrown at me left and right. Everything was “urgent” and due in 24 hours. I’d never been invited to so many meetings in my life. My calendar was completely packed, leaving minimal time to actually accomplish something during the day, leading to late nights and very early mornings. My inbox was flooded. Frustratingly, the new teammates I thought I’d collaborate with were so overwhelmed and buried in their own work that it left little opportunity to collaborate. I felt guilty asking for help and prefaced every request with, “sorry to bother you but...” And perhaps worst of all, the work was boring. I’d never received a job description despite asking for one several times. All I had to go on were the words from these two women on our calls. I came to realize their words meant absolutely nothing. They were toxic, running a toxic workplace, and unapologetic about it.
Our office eventually mandated a return-to-work policy effective in fall, leaving many decisions up to department heads to make at their discretion. I communicated to my boss that returning right away would be very difficult for me; my daughter was registered for half-days at an early childhood learning center but would not begin for a few more weeks. My commute is an hour each way. It would be impossible for me to drop my daughter off, get to work, and turn around to pick her up. The nature of my husband’s job requires he be onsite.
I asked my boss for some flexibility on the in-office start date. I wanted to get my daughter in school, make sure she was well-adapted, establish a routine to keep her – and us – physically and mentally healthy. Where we live, Covid restrictions were minimal and more and more young children were getting sick and winding up in the ICU. My daughter had been on my hip for a year; I’d never been away from her for longer than four hours. I was scared.
My boss told me that she cannot give me special treatment and there must be equity across the team.
I’ll never forget her dictatorial, condescending statement: “You need to wrap your head around the fact that you need full-time care for your daughter.”
She cited childcare is not a valid excuse for requesting help, even temporarily. In an attempt at good old-fashioned honesty, I explained I had interviewed 31 potential nannies and either didn’t like or couldn’t afford them. (Some demanded more than our mortgage) She replied that was not her problem and I was not encountering anything women before me hadn’t. When I pointed out that women before me weren’t faced with a pandemic, she said “that’s not a factor here.”
I reminded her that when I began this job, she said she would be supportive and work with me. She said, “I didn’t mean like this. I meant you could take your daughter to the doctor.”
Excuse me? Who the fuck do you think you are? As if I would ever ask anyone - especially you - for permission to take my daughter to the doctor!
She proceeded to suggest I remove my daughter from the school we had carefully and thoughtfully selected for her and put her in daycare near our office. I told her that wasn’t an option, and I am unwilling to sacrifice my daughter’s education, socialization or my own comfort of her well-being for this or any job.
She gave me an ultimatum: show up three days per week, or I will no longer be employed. I cried the entire evening and for days afterward, not even realizing she doesn’t actually have the power to fire me for solely that reason. I had countless sleepless nights or would wake up drenched in sweat knowing I had to face another day of her. The mental anguish I experienced over the situation was debilitating. I was stunned, confused, and so incredibly angry that modern women – professionals, mothers – could be so shortsighted and rigid in today’s 21st century workplace. Did I mention we work for a major healthcare organization? This major healthcare system touts compassion as one of its core values. It’s laughable.
From that encounter on, I never asked her for anything ever again. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of being able to shoot down another request. (Although, when I needed a laptop she ensured I received a heavy, old, outdated one while ordering my colleague a brand new, slick $4000 Mac) This led to me compulsively fibbing. I would reject meeting requests at the time I had to pick my daughter up at school (to this day we do not have full-time care for her). I would say I had a doctor’s appointment when I was really volunteering for something at her school. I would say I had a migraine if my daughter had a day off so I could spend time with her. Like my boss and her boss, I am unapologetic.
I got into a bad habit of replaying the events of the year over and over, beating myself up for accepting the position.
Why did I do this? How could I have made such a massive mistake? What was I thinking?
The short answer: I wasn’t thinking. Not how I normally do. There’s research underway that apparently demonstrates a woman’s brain undergoes chemical changes after giving birth. It’s logical to think that chemical changes result in alterations in the decision-making process. Priorities shift, new feelings emerge and old ones fade away. For me, things that once claimed priority suddenly seemed unimportant, like continuing to advance my career.
Common advice recommends not making big decisions for at least six months – or even a year – after experiencing loss. The loss of a loved one, for example, has tremendous impact on all aspects of life. Not waking up next to them, not being able to call them, no more celebrations or holidays together, one less seat at the dinner table. Life changes instantaneously and things are noticeably, viscerally different. Accepting these changes takes willpower, patience, adaptation, and sometimes, therapy.
Not long after I took this job, I did start seeing a therapist. I needed guidance to contain my anger and frustration and now, disgust, with my job situation. Our expenses were higher than ever and quitting without something else lined up was not an option. My therapist pointed out that waiting to make big decisions after any major life event – not only loss – is an option. I had never even stopped to consider this. I was perfectly happy in my old role. I had built myself a terrific career I was proud of. When I agreed to move, I was still in a haze, sleep-deprived and overly emotional. The parenthood learning curve was large enough without the added stress of a professional one.
I discovered too late that career growth and advancement simply were no longer as important to me as they once were. Maybe they will be again, but in my new life, family comes first. No matter what. The ambition I once had for my career has taken a backseat to the ambition I now have to practice positive and productive parenting, making the best decisions for my daughter and teaching her to be a good person, to be truly compassionate and understanding.
Reflecting on all of this, I still can’t explain my decision. I’m kind of ashamed to admit this, but I think a small tiny piece of me wanted to prove that I could do it all – continue being a superstar professional and a superhero mom. For nine months, I took full-time care of my daughter while at the same time working full-time from home. No nannies. No childcare. No family. When I told people this, they were both shocked and impressed. Even though I certainly never set out to impress anyone, it still felt good. But it came at a steep cost that I never would have paid had I been in a normal frame of mind versus just weeks postpartum.
Many will probably think I did this all to myself by staying and continuing to work under this woman (with whom I had more run-ins with later) but I would challenge them to put themselves in my shoes. I scoured the job boards and worked my contacts for other job opportunities but came up empty-handed repeatedly. We are not independently wealthy and at the time, we didn’t have enough saved to afford me indefinite time off. Faced with these realities, leaving my position just wasn’t tenable. So I stayed awhile longer, and yes, I suffered. It was the ultimate sacrifice - a paycheck for my mental health. No one should ever have to choose between the two.
*UPDATE:
I never did wind up going in three days a week. Leadership changed their minds about returning to the office and re-decided it wasn’t safe enough. Later, I went in once, twice a week for a few months. Then there was a mass exodus of people from the organization (more proof of its toxicity).
I did leave this job eventually and now have a compassionate, understanding, supportive boss. Unsurprisingly, my quality of life vastly improved, almost overnight. Also, I have since discovered that the “powerhouse” head of marketing didn’t poach me; I was essentially sold to her by a financial manager in my old office under the guise of avoiding layoffs or furloughs during Covid. I was outright lied to and misled by all three women.