I wrote this last year when I was at my lowest. Searching on Linked in, indeed and corporate websites, everywhere for an opportunity- a lifeline really so that I could leave the current 9-5 hell that I was living in week after week. Happily, things have now changed for the better.
There are days, most days when I really want to quit my job. Not that the work itself is bad. It's actually not difficult, my hours are pretty good (aside from working in the summertime) and the office is located just a few miles drive along the beach.
The problem is my boss.
She rages like a toddler when she perceives that someone is not doing something her way. Best of all when her thoughts are irrational, she likes to take her insecurities out on those around her.
Melting down and yelling over a silly misunderstanding is her specialty. She once cornered me in the office kitchen, after closing the door so no one else could hear and verbally attacked me because she thought I was yelling at her and disrespecting her when in fact, there was a lot of office noise and I was simply trying to be heard over the din.
She clearly has an issue with me. A few examples cited by her in my yearly (only given once in 5 years of employment) "review":
"You answer the phone so quickly I can't see the caller id."
"You complete projects too early."
"Your planning ahead is problematic."
"It's on you" "That's going to happen" in response to me expressing concern over dealing with completely avoidable last minute issues that derail then entire office staff after I brought up concern over it weeks prior in an attempt to mitigate the situation ahead of time.
And the cherry on top, when I asked for a raise: "You are the reason I want to quit."
But perhaps the absolute biggest offense: we don't take time for lunch.
We eat at our desks, trudging through the workload. I bring a salad of chopped up bits and pieces nestled into a small container from my home refrigerator so that I can easily shovel it all in with a just fork...no knife needed. This way I can continue to type with one finger on my opposite hand.
Self care in this workplace is not made to be a priority and heaven forbid if you want to take a 5 minute walk or grab a breath of fresh air. But, if you are so inclined, you can do planks on the dirty carpet for 1 minute with the team. This is supposed to be an act of taking care of oneself. I refuse to participate.
I've worked for other horrible bosses before. Most of them were openly hostile and equally aggressive to my fellow coworkers as they were to me. This time its personal. I am the only target. So I lay low, and hide behind my computer screen, typing like a mad woman, to get all of my work done and leave for the day as soon as possibly allowed.
I invented my first tiny chopped salad back in the days when I worked for a tyrant of a woman. It was an insanely busy restaurant that catered to tourists eager to catch the ferry to Martha's Vineyard and locals if they had the patience to wait in line. She screamed at me and many others everyday for an entire summer while I bused tables. There was no time to eat during the 12 hours of working. You might be able to shove some oyster crackers into your mouth and the diet coke was free but that was all. Until I became a prep cook. I was in charge of making all of the garden salads for the busy dinner rush. While slicing cucumbers and chopping lettuce, I cut up the ends of tomatoes and peppers, little leftover pieces of lettuce and threw chopped pepperoncini into a small wooden salad bowl housed in the corner of my bench. It looked like a tiny scrap bucket, which it technically was but was made up of bite size pieces of the good scraps. During the few minutes between prep and the front door being opened for service, I managed to grab a fork and a packet of blue cheese dressing. This was in the 1980's and we were all paid under the table. No breaks, no benefits. My days were fueled by adrenaline and fountain soda with lemon. I cried after every shift in the car on the way home that first summer I worked for her. I was 15 years old. I have not cried over a horrible boss and the way they treated me since. I guess I can thank her for helping me to grow a thick, hard and calloused skin.
That wild woman moved on to other targets and I stayed in that summer job for about 5 years, through my freshman year of college. I was tough, I could hang with the rest of the mangy kitchen crew. She told me I was one of her best employees. Then I worked for a madman caterer who acted in the same manner. On top of it, he was also a sexist chauvinist but equal in his bestowing of put downs and anger. No problem. I put my head down, did my work and was rewarded for it. Whenever he sees me in town, over 30 years later, he always said that he would like to have cloned me. Lord. Aside from his behavior, his worst offense? Non of us were given time or food to eat.
We catered large business events and weddings. If you were lucky enough to be in the kitchen when the Caesar salad was plated for 150 guests as the dish room was about to receive the massive silver salad bowls used to mix the chopped romaine and the parmesan laden salad dressing, you may have been able to pilfer a tiny piece of green left behind before the bowl was rinsed and tossed into the dishwasher. The same went for the passed appetizers, the crudite or the cheese platter that were bused as the guests sat for dinner. But never let him catch you plucking a sad, wilted piece of celery that was left behind. Your reward: he would scream, "NO SEA GULLING!!!!" heard throughout the dining room, followed by a tantrum filled with a barrage of swear words that I am not willing to repeat here. I would rather starve.
In honor of horrible bosses everywhere, I have developed a few variations on my version of the "Tiny Salad". Remember to chop all ingredients into bite size or smaller pieces and layer them into a small, inconspicuous container with the dressing lining the bottom, underneath all of the other ingredients. Heavier and more substantial things such as chopped grilled chicken should be added first, lettuces and more delicate additions such as fresh herbs on the very top. Pack in a cooler bag with an ice pack and a napkin and keep it at your desk. When you are ready/allowed/don't fear retaliation for eating, gently shake the container to mix it all together. Don't forget to bring your own fork!
Tiny Salad Rules:
The salads are chopped so that they can be:
1. Eaten with just a fork
2. Eaten quickly
3. Eaten at your station/desk. etc. with little to no mess
4. Eaten without being detected that you are actually taking a moment to nourish yourself to get through the misery of your workday.
Chopped "Garden" Salad
Caesar Salad with Leftover Bread Croutons
Caesar Dressing:
BBQ Chicken Chopped Salad (inspired by California Pizza Kitchen)
