When You’re in an Abusive Relationship…With Your Job.

(Photo: The Library of Virginia)

I think I’m ready to talk about it.

I say “I think,” because are you ever really ready to talk about the eight months of hell you endured while being systematically brainwashed by an egomaniac? I doubt it. But I think I’ve come to a place where it’s actually unhealthy to not talk about it, and would be a disservice to young people everywhere if I kept my mouth shut.

I had stars in my eyes. A week before my wedding I had landed a job. A job! It’s what every graduate of the Class of 2009 didn’t think they would get in this economy. A job! And it paid! I was on cloud nine. The job came available as a friend (a former co-worker, actually) left his position as junior designer. Another friend, (his girlfriend at the time,) suggested me for the job. Me! I was thrilled.

The wedding came and went, (more on that another time), and three days after B and I said, “I do,” I did. I started my new position as a junior designer, and I was going to make money. It started simple enough. I was warned that company was a little weird, but totally legit and very cool. There’s all sorts of perks, they buy us snacks! Healthy ones! Everything looked good.

Until it didn’t. I left at 5:00 p.m. everyday for the first month. That was fine, I was taking the bus: I had an excuse. Then it got to be a problem. I started getting comments about leaving at 5:00 p.m., even when my work was done. I thought it was weird, but I made a point to start leaving at 5:30. Hell, it meant I got home a whole hour later than when I did at 5:00, but at least the comments and dirty looks would stop, right? Wrong. The comments and dirty looks remained. I toyed with different departure times, but no time seemed to appease the powers that be like 7:00 p.m.

Everyone stayed. Everyone feared the comments, the dirty looks. In the daily “huddle,” a sophomoric attempt to create a feeling of “family” and “stability,” a sense of “transparency,” we would stand in a circle and discuss the previous day’s numbers. We’d talk about our personal triumphs and give props to those who’d gone above and beyond in their jobs. Guess what that always entailed? Staying late. Working weekends. Giving of yourself totally to the company. Ignoring your husband’s calls at 9:00 p.m., worried that you’d gotten taken from the bus, when really you were just looking for the next day’s “caught being awesome.”

We laughed at it. At happy hours, something we had to keep quiet from the managers, we’d smoke our cigarettes (not allowed at work, or we’d be publicly humiliated in the next day’s huddle,) and down our martinis, (also, very frowned upon,) and talk about “catching each other being awesome.” It was a joke, but we didn’t realize how seriously it was injuring us, day-in, day-out, crushing all of us.

Soon, happy hour became a place to go and complain. Instead of “happy hour,” it was now “dissatisfaction hours.” We all hated our jobs. We all hated our bosses. We all hated how little we were being paid, and how much we were being asked to give of ourselves.

When a new person would start, we’d notice how often they’d leave at 5:00 p.m.. The first week, it was everyday. Some of the more brazen ones would even leave at 4:45 p.m., “Taking a half-day?” the boss would ask, “Oh, no, just my wife is here to pick me up.” “I’m just kidding with you, see you tomorrow.” But they weren’t kidding. Rule number one of the cult: Never Put Yourself or Family First. The Company is Everything.

They would dangle things in front of us. Sometimes we’d get “promotions,” either with or without a pay bump, and they’d stop everything to announce it. “This person is now in charge of this, which means he or she will never leave this office again.” They weren’t saying it, but we all knew it. A promotion came with a heavy price. Especially if you made it to a supervisor position. When I was promoted to design supervisor, they told me, “you can’t go to happy hours anymore.” They knew, they knew we were gathering together once a week to talk about how shitty our lives were, how much of an ego-maniacal ass hat our boss was. Looking back, I think they were trying to silence me, they saw me as a threat.

About six months in, I was looking for a new job. Not seriously, as working a 70-hour work-week can really take all outside ambition out of you, but I was slowly gathering together the materials and portfolio pieces I needed to make a clean break.

It was funny, because while all the shitty stuff was happening, there would be these small moments where you really felt like, “wow, this is something important, and I’m an integral part of this. I’m important.” But it wasn’t. It was just one man with a Jesus-complex who’d convinced everyone else around him that he was The One. You’d find yourself looking for praise, craving it, in any form, looking for a shout-out from your supervisor, looking for their approval. You knew it didn’t matter, but it was what you needed to get through the day.

The boss would say things like, “Jess just graduated from college, and she’s already a magazine art director! She would never have had this opportunity anywhere else.” He would say these things in huddle, in a public place, almost like a church testimonial. You’d hear this and think, “Yes, I’m so lucky. If I ever leave, no one will ever take a chance on me again.” When I heard a girl say this one day, I wanted to shake her. But it was too late. She was convinced. Who would ever take a chance on me? This was how they controlled you. You have nowhere else to go, so you’d put up with the less-than-average income and the long hours. Because you have to.

Sometimes people would get fired. It was always someone you didn’t expect. It was always a big blow-out that you’d hear about in the bathroom, whispered tones between the stalls, “I heard he threw a chair.” While I was at the company, my husband and I figured, about ten percent of the employees had been fired or quit. That’s a huge percentage for company with less that 50 employees.

And then you’d hear these stories: “Yeah, he’s doing so well now,” and you’d think, “yeah, that could be me, if he can do it…” but you’d sit at your desk, day after day, dreaming about stomping into the office and screaming at the Jesus. You wanted to tell him how much you hated him, and how he was ruining your marriage, and how your friends all thought you were in a cult, because you were.

But you wouldn’t leave. You’d go the bathroom and cry. Others would come in, see you, know exactly what was going on, I’ve been there, they’d think, then you’d wash your hands and go back to your day-dreaming until 8:30 p.m. On the way home, you’d think, “if I could just get into a small accident, nothing fatal, just enough to get me out of work tomorrow.” That’s when you know it’s bad.

The worst part of it, is that the bosses really think they’re running a perfect company. They think we don’t know their real tactics: hire young people without experience, pay them below the average salary, convince them no one will ever hire them in such a high position, give them small rewards (a lunch, a small bonus, etc.), give big punishments (“You dare disagree with me? Fired.”), and create an environment where everyone feels obligated to make the job their life (“We’re saving lives, here, people.” No, no you’re not.).  When the uppity ones (the ones with college degrees) start asking questions or demanding raises, fire them. “Cut the cancer out before it can spread,” as my former boss said about me.

I’m not saying that all corporations are like this, but they are out there, and I definitely experienced this. I would go home everyday and drink to forget. I’d be mean to my husband. I had no interest in friends or outside activities, because I was so tired. I had no sex drive. I just wanted to die. I wasn’t suicidal, but I didn’t want to go to work. And I knew there would be no acceptable excuse for not going in one day.

On the day I was fired, I knew it was coming. I had spent the last two weeks training my replacement; someone they insisted wasn’t replacing me. I had already gathered the materials I needed to put in my portfolio. I had already started applying for jobs.

They called a “manager’s meeting,” and I got up to go in. Before I could walk through the door, the HR guy called me into his office. I knew then. He sat me down and explained to me that they “were going to have to let me go,” because they had heard I was discussing pay with another employee. They never asked for my side, or asked what the discussion was about. They just knew they wanted to fire me. The “other employee” was fired that day, too, via e-mail because he was on vacation with his wife. I wouldn’t know this until later, however.

I was proud of myself. I didn’t cry, I didn’t argue, I just said, “ok,” and he escorted me to my desk to pack my things. I made a production of it. All my friends and employees I had supervised looked at me with questions in their eyes. I just smiled, slowly packing things and returning borrowed items to their rightful owners. I required two boxes. A design supervisor comes with a lot of accouterments.

The HR guy walked me to my car. I opened the trunk, he put the boxes in my car and shook my hand. I leaned in and said, “Just so you know, everyone hates working with (my new supervisor).” He said, “ok,” and I got in my car and drove off. The tears didn’t start until I left the parking lot.

Later I found out that two of my friends walked out. They were called back to the office immediately, and were given the explanation that I and our other co-worker were a cancer that had to be cut out. One of those people later quit. They were both my heroes.

I only have one friend who still works there. Of the happy hour group, only three remain, the less outraged among us, I suppose. Those of us who got out are doing tremendously. We all found jobs, or started our own businesses. We all talk about how much happier we are, now that we’re not a part of that insane company.

But I know I, and at least one other person, regularly have nightmares about working there. Usually the boss man is trying to track us down and kill us. It worries me in a post-traumatic-stress-disorder way.

What I experienced was Corporate narcissism. According to Wikipedia:

“Corporate narcissism occurs when a narcissist becomes the leader (CEO) or a member of the senior management team and gathers an adequate mix of codependents around him (or her) to support his narcissistic behavior: “narcissistic leadership is about reproduced copies, not about originals.”^[7] This leads almost inevitably to a deterioration in the organization’s performance.”

I read an article after I’d been fired titled “How to Keep Someone With You Forever”. The article hit the nail on the head for how we were being treated at the company. The writer listed out how a cycle of abuse creates a sick system in which fear, not respect, ultimately becomes the thing that keeps you there. I’ve found the most relevant pieces:

“Rule 1: Keep them too busy to think. Thinking is dangerous. If people can stop and think about their situation logically, they might realize how crazy things are.”

“Rule 2: Keep them tired. Exhaustion is the perfect defense against any good thinking that might slip through. Fixing the system requires change, and change requires effort, and effort requires energy that just isn’t there. “

“Rule 3: Keep them emotionally involved. Make them love you if you can, or if you’re a company, foster a company culture of extreme loyalty. Otherwise, tie their success to yours, so if you do well, they do well, and if you fail, they fail.”

“Rule 4: Reward intermittently. Intermittent gratification is the most addictive kind there is. If you know the lever will always produce a pellet, you’ll push it only as often as you need a pellet. If you know it never produces a pellet, you’ll stop pushing. But if the lever sometimes produces a pellet and sometimes doesn’t, you’ll keep pushing forever, even if you have more than enough pellets (because what if there’s a dry run and you have no pellets at all?).”

“How do you do all this? It’s incredibly easy:

“Keep the crises rolling. Incompetence is a great way to do this: If the office system routinely works badly or the controlling partner routinely makes major mistakes, you’re guaranteed ongoing crises. … Regular crises perform two functions: They keep people too busy to think, and they provide intermittent reinforcement. After all, sometimes you win—and when you’ve mostly lost, a taste of success is addictive.”

“Things will be better when… The production schedule is crazy because the client is nuts. We just need to get through this cycle, then we’ll have a new client, and they’ll be much better. … Perpetual crises mean the person is too tired to notice that it has never been like this for long.”

“Keep real rewards distant. The rewards in “Things will be better when…” are usually nonrewards—things will go back to being what they should be when the magical thing happens. Real rewards—happiness, prosperity, career advancement, a new house, children—are far in the distance. They look like they’re on the schedule, but there’s nothing in the To Do column. … Companies have a harder time holding out on rewards, but endlessly delayed raises and promotions, workplace upgrades that are talked about but never get enough budget, and training programs that are canceled for lack of money work well.”

“Establish one small semi-occasional success. This should be a daily task with a stake attached and a variable chance of success.“

“Chop up their time. Perpetually interrupt them with meetings, visits from supervisors, bells and whistles and time clocks and hourly deadlines. … Make sure they have barely enough time to manage both the crisis of the moment and the task of the moment; and if you can’t tire them out physically, drain them emotionally.”

“Enmesh your success with theirs. Company towns are great at this. Everything, from the workers’ personal social standing to the selection of groceries at the store, depends upon how well they do their jobs and how well the company as a whole is doing. Less enveloping companies try to tie their workers’ self-perceptions in with the public’s perception of their brand”

“Keep everything on the edge. Make sure there’s never quite enough money, or time, or goods, or status, or anything else people might want. Insufficiency makes sick systems self-perpetuating, because if there’s never enough ______ to fix the system, and never enough time to think of a better solution, everyone has to work on all six cylinders just to keep the system from collapsing.”

Any of this sound familiar? Get out, NOW! Or, don’t listen to me, I’m just a cancer.