A Very Unprofessional Resignation That I Still Don't Regret

After years working in for-profit healthcare and seeing all the issues that the profit-driven policies bring, I moved to work in the non-profit sector with an eagerness that I didn’t know at the time was naïve.

Non-profit organizations often have fluctuating budgets.

This meant that my run at the local animal shelter wasn’t very long, only 5 months.

I was heartbroken that I had to leave that job. I loved working with the animals and especially helping them in that way. The for-profit veterinarian offices had left a sour taste in my mouth too.

Despite that, I was forced to face the facts. I needed a reliable income.

I lived in a city apartment that cost $1300 each month and needed to find a job. It wasn’t very long before an opportunity came to me. It was in a for-profit healthcare system but I was desperate so I took it.

I had experience and I quickly became good at my job. There were two people in my department, myself and a lady who had been doing that same job, at that same desk, for over 25 years. She wasn’t very happy when colleagues and patients she had worked with for decades started coming to me to ask questions.

She took her anger out on me and was always hateful, condescending, and just plain rude. She would intentionally mess things up in a chart and then blame me. I didn’t have any way to get help from her abuse because she and the boss of the place were good friends. After a few weeks, I decided to call the HR department to report what I was witnessing and experiencing.

As I called, the hostility grew. I started to worry that she knew someone in that department as well. She seemed to be untouchable.

After calling nearly 10 times to report different instances of the same type of hostility, I got no calls back and nothing happened. I sat next to her day after day and she was never called to the office or spoke to in private. I lost hope and decided to ignore her the best I could.

As soon as I started to ignore her, she started acting out more.

Her behavior became more hostile and her attitude toward me grew more nasty by the minute. I knew I had to do something. I started preparing at home to lean more heavily on my part-time business. I had been ghostwriting on the side and was working hard to see if it was a viable income.

Even though I was planning to, I wasn’t ready to quit so I chose to go and talk to my boss, my abusive coworker’s friend, face to face about it.

I set up an appointment, gathered my notes, and compiled the evidence. I waited until the day of our appointment and my boss never showed up at the office.

30 minutes after our scheduled meeting I reached out to her via email. She responded almost immediately. She said she had forgotten about our appointment and asked me to send what I wanted to say to her in an email.

I was upset but typed up the email, scanned in all my evidence, and sent it over.

A couple of days later the boss came in and asked to speak with me. She told me that my coworker had been there a while and everyone just learned to deal with her attitude. I tried to explain that they weren’t dealing with it anymore, they were all coming to me. I expressed my belief that was why that coworker was treating me so badly.

My boss put her hand up as if she didn’t want to hear it.

I couldn’t stay there with all of the emotions I was feeling. I needed to be alone so I told my boss I’d be taking the rest of the day off. It was Friday and we didn’t work weekends so I knew I would have plenty of time to cool off.

On the drive home, I rolled down the window. I let the wind hit my face and blow my hair into knots. The tears fell down my cheeks but no one could see because I was alone in my car. The wind was quickly drying the path of the tears into my skin so I felt safe to let them flow freely.

The tears helped me feel better but I could still feel the anger boiling underneath the surface. Once I closed my apartment door behind me, I passed through all the stages of grief in about 5 minutes.

I was so angry I was screaming. I walked to the mirror and watched myself as I pretended I was telling that coworker off. I watched my brow furrow as I shouted exactly what I wanted her to hear at no one. I pressed my back into the wall across from the mirror. I held back tears as I cussed her to the moon and back, as my grandma would say.

Then I cried. I cried for myself as I was faced with a big decision. I cried for the people there that had just learned to deal with her abusive tactics. I cried for the patients that she was just as rude to. I cried for the high hopes I had for this job.

I lay on the cold, fake hardwood floor and I cried until I started to second guess myself.

Was it really that bad? Maybe I’m overreacting? If everyone else can handle it, then why can’t I? I thought to myself. Quickly I recognized the familiar thoughts I learned from years of enduring abuse and being told it wasn’t abuse creeping back in.

Pausing to ground and center myself, I found my footing. I stood up, strong and tall. I knew I was right to stand up to her. I also I knew that I could take her down. The need for vengeance washed over my body so fast that I was almost consumed by it.

I thought about all of the ways that I could make her cry like I had been crying. I felt the fire of a thousand suns rising up in my belly. I knew I needed to cool it.

I took some deep breaths and reminded myself that I could handle whatever I was facing with grace and empathy. After the waves calmed, I was able to take a look at what was going on objectively.

I could see that I wasn’t happy in the for-profit world and never would be. I knew that I wouldn’t be happy at that job even without that coworker there. I may have even focused too much on blaming my unhappiness on her.

I considered going back to work with a new outlook but quickly shot it down in my head.

It wouldn’t be worth it.

I decided I wasn’t going back. I knew I didn’t owe them anything, it had only been 2 months since my first day. I decided I wasn’t going to work for someone else ever again.

I knew that since I wouldn’t be working for another company again that I didn’t need to worry about what this manager would say about me.

I felt empowered when I realized I could simply never go back to work there and it wouldn’t matter at all.

I spent all weekend weighing my options. I could turn in a notice and endure it. I could ignore that coworker and endure it. I could let it roll off my back and endure it.

But I didn’t want to endure it. Not for another second.

That Monday morning, I got up at the sound of my 4:30 alarm. I slipped into some workout gear but I wasn’t going to the gym.

The ride that morning was peaceful. For weeks this drive had been filled with dread but this time was different. I heard the birds chirping and watched as the sun peeked up over the horizon. I felt limitless. I felt content. I knew that job wasn’t for me.

I pulled into the parking lot of the office building and put my car in park. It was so early that no one was there, just as I had planned.

I scanned my card and the door unlocked. Fearful someone would see me and what I was doing, I walked so quickly that I was running. I opened the oversized tote bag I had brought with me and started loading it with my office supplies.

Drawer organizers. Decorative sticky notes. Personalized pen and pencil holder. Highlighters. Nameplate. Folders I had used to organize myself at every job since graduation. Pictures. Special push pens.

I haphazardly shoved everything into that bag. I was fussing with a wire paper tray when I heard a noise. It sounded like someone else was in the building. I tossed that wire paper tray back onto the desk that was once mine, grabbed the overstuffed bag, and moved quickly toward the door.

Keeping my head down, I was hoping that whoever was in the building wouldn’t recognize me with my hair up and in workout clothes. I told myself to just get out the door as I hastened my pace.

When I reached the door, I let out a huge sigh. I was relieved that no one had seen me looking like a desk supply stealing bandit with folders and staplers hanging out of their stash bag.

Crossing the parking lot I noticed a car turn in. Feeling terrified I would get caught, I ducked behind a shrub and watched the car. It made a u-turn and left the parking lot.

More scared than ever, I ran to my car, threw the bag in the trunk, and bolted out of there. Breathing heavy, I looked in my rearview mirror and saw the building I would never return to.

About 2 blocks down the road, I pulled over and into another parking lot. I sat there in silence staring at the emblem on the steering wheel. I felt elated. I was bold. I was a rebel!

I was jobless. My body sank in worry.

With shaking hands, I opened the email function on my phone, sent an email that said I wasn’t coming back to the boss, and deleted the work email information out of my phone’s memory.

Overwhelmed with all of the feelings all at once, I began to cry so hard I laughed. I laughed at myself for jumping behind the bush. I laughed at the idea of her getting that email. I cry-laughed at how necessary my rage quit was.

And then fear set in. With it came the heavy tears. Sad tears and happy tears all at once. I was scared. I was hopeful. I was sure that even though I was unemployed and broke now, I’d have money in the bank to pay rent.

I didn’t know where it would come from. I just knew that it would.

Smiling as my fear turned into trust, I turned onto the highway to head to my new writing job, in my new office, at home.