An Open Letter to Toxic Colleagues and Supervisors
Dear Former Coworkers and “Supervisors” who made my life miserable,
Aside from offering tips and tricks on how not to treat your employees and coworkers like garbage, this letter is intended to inform you of what it was like to be me when I had to walk on eggshells around you—“you” meant in both the singular and plural, coworker and supervisor. I’m still trying to figure out my life five years after leaving the traditional workforce. I’ve experienced some struggles, some roadblocks, some “How is this my life?” moments. Overall, I have a lot to be grateful for, number one being that my mental health has a thousand percent improved now that I work for myself.
I write to you not from a place of anger, bitterness, or resentment. I have no desire to call you out by your name. You know who you are, even though you’d like to pretend otherwise. Since you’ve now stumbled upon this letter, I highly encourage you to take some time to read it and reflect. It’s important that you understand how your behaviors have harmed me.
All I ever wanted was to do my job to the best of my ability, get paid adequately, and be treated with respect. I wanted to be the very best at what I did, no matter what it was. I was excited to start work and learn, grow, and hopefully positively impact a few people along the way. However, you didn’t (and maybe still don’t) view employment quite the same way. Our definitions couldn’t be more opposite.
Getting hired means there are certain things you need to do consistently to get paid: show up on time, learn the ins and outs of your position, ask questions when you don’t know something, attend meetings. Basic shit.
Most of my jobs came with a clear set of requirements—on paper, with my signature and yours—that I had to maintain so I could keep my job and continue being compensated. Never once, on any “employee’s duties” paperwork I’ve read through and signed, has any of this been on the list:
— Greet everyone whenever you see them, even if it’s more than once. On the same day, of course. Even though you already said hi twice today, if you don’t say it a third time, it’ll be assumed that you’re in a bad mood.
— Eat lunch with your coworkers because it’s rude not to. They’re not going to talk to you very much while you’re in there, but you must be there nevertheless.
— Participate in team-building exercises whether you want to or not (since that’s what it means to be a team player).
— Attend all birthday lunch parties, even if you’re trying to catch up on some work or need some time to yourself after a hectic start to the day. Your coworkers’ birthday parties have to come first. (But yours won’t.)
— Attend all holiday parties. They’re mandatory. If you don’t attend, you’ll be perceived to have a bad attitude. We can’t have that here.
— Get to know each of your coworkers personally. Go ahead, ask them about their weekend. Tell them about yours. Get involved in their drama, too. If you don’t, it’ll just be a matter of time until you become the source of everyone’s problems.
— Do anything your supervisor asks of you, even when it’s way outside of your job parameters. You aren’t allowed to say no or have an opinion. Your employment here is contingent on your ability to follow orders.
— Even though we agreed on what your work hours are, you’ll still have to stay late, come in early, and work weekends from time to time. Please do yourself a favor and don’t expect overtime pay or a bump in your salary. If you want to remain employed here, you’ll do as you’re told—I mean, asked.
— Along with adhering to the company dress policy, avoid wearing the same clothing on a regular basis, as it might indicate poor hygiene. If you don’t have the finances to acquire a decent wardrobe for work, don’t bother working here. Nobody cares if you’ve been out of work for a few months and don’t have the means to purchase clothing yet. Aren’t you an adult? Figure it out.
— Do NOT try to learn your craft to the point that your skill set far exceeds those of your coworkers, especially me, your supervisor. You’ll look like a show-off and that you’re better than us. While I pretend otherwise, I know a good portion of people who work here produce poor work. But it’s good enough that I continue getting paid, so the inadequate standards are quite alright by me. They also aren’t very consistent with their attendance, and they don’t bother with professional development because, frankly, they’ve got better things to do. Please work at their level so they don’t feel outshined by you.
— Your office door must remain open at all times unless you’re on an important phone call or meeting with a client. Closing it is extremely rude and off-putting, almost like you couldn’t be bothered to breathe the same air as the rest of us.
— Expect to be one of the first employees to train new personnel. We don’t have a training program and can’t be bothered to develop a training manual, so make sure you pick up on things quickly. If that trainee doesn’t work out, you’re definitely getting blamed. I don’t care if you’ve only been here a few months, either.
Have you, dear former supervisors and coworkers, ever encountered these requirements in all your years of employment? No, you haven’t.
The same pattern has played out in every job I’ve had throughout my adult life. I’ll break it down for you. First, I start the job. Whether or not I get some proper training is up in the air, so I’ll ask a bunch of questions and hope there’s at least one person in this place who knows what they’re doing. I’m trying my best not to let my last bad job experience tint my view of this one. You all seem friendly enough, so I’m in high spirits. I genuinely love what I do.
It’s been six months. I now have the basics down, and I’m in my element. I’ve been friendly and polite—as always—but more so up to this point because I wanted to make a good impression and be consistent in how I am at work. I don’t want you to regret hiring me or working alongside me, so I eat lunch with you every day, as that’s what you encouraged from the start. I don’t care for the boring small talk, but I’ve played along and kinda don’t want to anymore. K?
It’s been about a year now. I’ve gotten so much better at my craft, no thanks to most of you. I took it upon myself to seek out training seminars and other resources for professional development. Continuous improvement is crucial if I’m to do my best. (I even do this on my own time, unpaid. But I didn’t feel that was something you should know because that’s how much I enjoy my craft.) But don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to improve so you’ll think I’m competent—because I know that you know you hit the lottery when you hired me. Look at how much better things are around here now! You love all the good work I do...
...but you don’t love it when coworkers turn to me for help and answers since you believe it’ll make you look as if you don’t know what you’re doing. And you don’t, just to clarify. But you haven’t started treating me differently than others yet, so maybe stuff will finally go my way, and you’ll turn out to be a decent supervisor.
Now that I’ve solidified my place in this organization, I feel way more confident about my skills. I feel so grateful to work here. This job is awesome! Now that it seems I’m accepted as part of the crew, I can pull back a bit from some of what I’ve been doing in order to fit in and get along with everyone. I’m going to eat lunch by myself in my office a few times a week instead of in the breakroom with you on a daily basis. Don’t worry, I’ll still be friendly and approachable, but I don’t want to get to know anyone here on a deeper level. That’s not what you pay me for, and it’s not why I’m here. But if it happens organically, cool.
I’m at the two-year mark now, and this job isn’t anything like what I was led to believe. I feel like I’ve been duped. Why have things changed all of a sudden? Why am I being labeled “rude” because I don’t want to eat lunch in the breakroom anymore? I’ve made it quite clear that I prefer to be by myself so I can recharge a bit before digging into the second half of the workday.
How come you’re okay with morale being so low around here? People are regularly burning out and calling in, yet you do nothing about it other than offload their work onto those of us who already have too much to do. I don’t have the option of saying no to extra work, or so you say. But I’m starting to think I do because this is getting ridiculous. I’m burned out, too! I’ve been in burnout for months and want so much to hide at home for a month, but I can’t just abandon my clients. I can’t even take mental health days when I need to because of all the extra shit I’m being made to do on a regular basis—other people’s work, no less. Yep, it’s regular now. You don’t even say thank you anymore. Nobody says thank you.
Clearly, you see this is a problem, don’t you? Why are you getting mad at your employees for regularly calling in when you’ve done zilch to address this issue? FYI, people don’t just “get over” burnout. As a member of management, it’s your responsibility to fix this, and soon. Instead, you allow this to continue. You allow your best employees to shoulder the burden for who knows how long. So we do. And things seem to be getting better here now, so sit back and breathe a sigh of relief for all the support you didn’t provide to us.
Other than me, only one other person has been in your ear, letting you know what’s been going on around here. We’ve informed you of how overtaxed we all are. Nobody’s getting paid more. Nobody’s offered extra vacation days, mental health days, or bonuses. Something is better than “Be grateful that you have a job.” Stop fucking say that! This is your business, and it is failing. Because of your inaction. Your lack of leadership. Your proclivity for tossing blame at whoever suits you. After all, we need to be reminded that we’re not doing enough.
Now I’m approaching my third year, and things have definitely gone downhill. At this point, I’m on everyone’s radar. I’m the target. I’ve spoken up too much, too often. I’ve exercised my right to voice my opinion tactfully. I’ve produced the proof that your business is going to shit, that your staff is about at their limits. I didn’t have to do any of this. But now, the majority of the employees I’ve been advocating for have turned on me. What the fuck? Why? They asked me to say something, and I did. And because I did—and they did not—I’m the asshole? Newsflash: Anyone who raises concerns about their job or the work environment—and does so tactfully—should not become an enemy. People can ask whatever the hell they want, so you need to be professional at all times with all employees. Check your baggage at the door and show up for your people.
I hate coming to work now. It feels toxic. I don’t feel appreciated, even though I’m one of the few who does the most work. You’ve made it a point to single me out and talk to me on several different occasions about how I’ve stopped being a team player. That nobody likes my bad attitude. That I need to stop saying no to working late because I don’t have kids so it’s not like I have anything else to do. According to you, I need to do more, be more. Because it’s still not good enough for you. I’ve gotten written up for insubordination simply because I questioned the practices at this place? Oh, and people are spreading rumors about me, pushing me even further toward isolation.
My sleep has been in shambles for months now. All I think about is work. When I drive home, I think about how bad I feel as a result of what I’ve had to endure from you, Coworker and Supervisor. I get home, only to continue thinking about the shitshow that day was. I turn into a horrible version of myself that nobody, even me, wants to be around. Because I don’t know what else to do with my frustration, my rage over this entire situation, I take it out on those around me. My wife receives the brunt of it, just so you know. And she works here too, so can you imagine both of us feeling this way on a regular basis? Oh, sorry, I forgot that I can only share personal things if they’re positive.
You should know my physical and mental health are deteriorating. Physically, I feel exhausted. Getting home from work feels like I’m drained of every ounce of energy. I’m just trying to make it through today so I can get to tomorrow, then through tomorrow so I can get to the weekend, where I think I’ll catch up on sleep and recharge, ready to tackle the following week.
That doesn’t usually happen, though. What does happen is I replay the mean things people have done and said to me at that place called Work. I wish I didn’t, but my mind won’t cooperate. My thoughts, in turn, affect my body, and I end up with all kinds of illnesses, as well as visiting the ER twice a year (at least) to receive fluids because I’ve been dehydrated from all the vomiting I’ve been doing. So my weekends consist of trying to get more sleep, trying to relax, trying to engage in my hobbies and have some fun, trying to be nicer to myself, trying to be nicer to others, trying to hope that things will improve soon, trying not to dread Monday, when all the bullshit picks right back up from where it left off.
My mental health is shot. Before you ask, I go to therapy. Do you? I’m not so sure, but it seems like it could benefit you in more ways than one. Of course, you’d have to be open to taking a good, hard look at yourself to even begin making progress, and you can’t even do that at work, so...
To say that I feel very sick inside my mind is not an exaggeration. This workplace, which once used to be so positive, is just toxic at this point. No sense in sugarcoating it. As I drive to work, I no longer sing along loudly to the music and enjoy the drive. No, I strategize for the day ahead. How can I avoid this coworker? How much work can I find to do that will occupy me for every second of my workday? I only want to speak to most people at work if it’s about the actual job. Anything outside of that is off-limits, and I won’t think twice about walking away.
However, since work is also a social game, my desire to simply work is interpreted as rebellion. My wish to refrain from gossip and personal discussions so I can focus on my occupation is actually not what I’m supposed to do. Apparently, I’m supposed to show up to work when I feel like it, call in when it suits me, not exert too much effort for tasks, turn my half-hour lunch into an hour, visit coworkers to chat about anything except what we’re actually paid to do, then see if I can sneak out early because my day was sooo hard? Why are you punishing me for things you DIDN’T HIRE ME TO DO? Why are you a NARCISSISTIC, SELFISH ASSHOLE?!? What in your life is so bad that you have to come into the office and shit all over me day after day after day? And then get mad when I react to it? Your award for Gaslighter of the Year should arrive in the mail within five to seven days, so be on the lookout.
I see now that I’m starting to raise my voice and engage in negative behavior, so I apologize. I’m really trying to keep it professional here, but as I write this, I can’t help the flood of shitty memories popping out of the woodwork of my mind. I thought leaving home meant I could escape the trauma, not invite more of it into my life...
...I just got back from taking a week off because my mental health is really bad. It’s the worst it’s ever been. That break from work wasn’t even helpful because none of you give a shit how I’m doing. You’re actually hoping I quit. I’m not stupid. I see you all trying to push me out. Because I’ve been so horrible to you, so mean, so disrespectful, so unrelenting with my demands that you do more, more, and MORE. So I’ll give you what you want and start looking to apply somewhere else. It’s one of the best decisions I’ve made for myself in a long time.
Did you know that I’ve never been fired once? It seems that would’ve been the easier way to go, and we could have avoided meeting at this unhealthy juncture, yet you kept me around. Because I was good at my job and you knew it. However, I can only put up with so much. But I did always hope that the next job I took would be better than the last, as everyone hopes. It was always worse.
I was a substance abuse counselor for several years. It was the best job I’d ever had. Ever. Still, after the third treatment program, I called it quits and left the field entirely. I was so messed up and desperate to leave my last job that I gave notice with absolutely nothing lined up. Feeling like that turns what you used to love doing into the last thing you want to get up in the morning for. My light was extinguished.
You should also know that people quit their bosses, not their jobs. How do you not know this? The turnover rate at work was insane. I’ve quit each and every one of you because you don’t know how to lead. Because you let your employees do as they please. Or, in other cases, you pile so much work on them that their lights begin to dim, as mine did, before darkening completely, as mine did. So there’s no confusion, this is why I quit you:
— You failed to provide the necessary support and resources needed so I could excel in my role, leaving me feeling unsupported and set up for failure.
— Constantly being micromanaged is stifling and demoralizing, indicating your lack of trust in my abilities and autonomy. That sends mixed messages. First you act like I’m the employee you’ve always been looking for, then you step all over me.
— The work environment was toxic. You contributed to and allowed the toxic work culture to persist. It negatively impacted my job satisfaction and well-being (as I’ve already mentioned.)
— Your communication has been consistently inconsistent, whether it’s ambiguous interactions, varying feedback, or failure to genuinely listen to my concerns. It hindered productivity and bred frustration like you wouldn’t believe.
— I was treated unfairly. I witnessed and experienced favoritism, discrimination, and unequal treatment under your so-called leadership. Do you know how disrespected and undervalued I felt? Yes, you do, because I told you several times in as many months.
— I felt overlooked for my contributions and saw no clear path for career growth. It was disheartening and led to a lack of motivation.
— You regularly violated my boundaries. You disregarded them, such as contacting me outside of work hours excessively or expecting me to prioritize work over my personal life.
— You engaged in unethical behavior and pressured me to act unethically. I informed you that you were engaging in fraud and wanted me to as well, but you didn’t seem too bothered and pretended as though you hadn’t heard what I said. I also reported you and the rest of the management to the state. Do you have connections? Because nothing was ever done about my reports.
By the way, I’m autistic. I didn’t mention this earlier in my letter because it shouldn’t matter. Whether neurotypical or not, every single human deserves to be treated with respect, understanding, and dignity in the workplace. It’s not a place to act out your unresolved issues. Revealing my neurodivergence now serves to emphasize that my decision to leave wasn’t based solely on my unique cognitive makeup. Rather, it was a response to the repeated disregard for my boundaries, the lack of appreciation for my contributions, and the failure to foster a supportive and inclusive work environment.
In wrapping up this letter, I find it unnecessary to delve into the specifics of my current situation other than to express that I’m significantly better now, especially with my mental health fully restored. If you’re still perpetuating the same detrimental behaviors toward employees or peers, I suggest that you reflect on what these actions reveal about your character. It’s a moment for introspection, to consider the impact of your behavior on others and the kind of professional legacy you wish to leave behind.
Please learn and grow.
– Ang
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