I Was Bullied At Work

Since what I'm about to tell you is eating away at me, grinding my gears, getting under my skin and worst of all causing me write in clichés — I am going to jump right into it.

So, this is the story: I had a job working as a temp — you know the faceless, unvalued fill-in and transient office employee who comes in from an agency. Well, I was that person sent in to help, to keep the cogs turning, the wolf from the door (sorry again with the clichés).

I started my assignment as a receptionist during the holidays when much of the staff was out. I was told if I worked out, the position could be made permanent. After three days of settling in and getting to know the ins and outs of the job and feeling comfortable, I thought "this could work." So far, so good. Right? Wrong! Because on Day No. 4 I met the agency's overbearing tyrant: the workplace bully.

Before we go on, get the image of the big, hulking brute of a man hovering over me with his finger waggling a half inch from my face as he lectures out of your head. Nope, this was not my bully. My tormentor showed up masked by a cartoonish Southern demure, smelling of ratchetness and reeking of contempt, both middle-aged and female.

It was during my initial encounter with the bully that I raised an eyebrow as she immediately started to question everything I was doing. It was during our second meeting that I raised both eyebrows, as she accused me of not following office protocol. But, it was the snooping, blaming and the attempts at intimidating I received every day thereafter that inspired me to give her the "I'm about to lose it" side-eye.

In the morning, I would catch my harasser hovering around my desk to see what time I came in. In the afternoon, I would find her there again to see if I was late coming back from lunch. She also appeared many times in between to complain of any slight infraction associated with my existence.

Now you are probably thinking I'm exaggerating. And perhaps this was just a difference in opinion or conflicting personalities or, at worst, a little female cattiness. Oh hell no! This behavior was not the ordinary office gossip, politics or shenanigans. This was sadistic and hurtful conduct — the kind that inflames illnesses, aggression and violence in the workplace.

When it hit me that something was not right, I asked other employees about the bullying. I was told: "Folks don't stay at your position long." I could not believe what I was being told. Apparently, the entire office knew about the bullying, yet no one was taking a stand against it. I thought "this is ludicrous," so I complained to the office manager. Bad move. It turns out she was the backup bully outside the ring waiting for her turn to tap-in.

My position as the receptionist held zero sway. It was the punching bag used by these two bullies to beat up on folks, which explains the longevity of the bullying and the brevity of my employment: three weeks.

I write this with a sense of humor, but it's taken months to get to this place. When it was happening, I couldn't sleep. I was often anxious, and I started to question myself. And those around me let it happen. I expect they're still letting it happen to whomever succeeded me.

And that makes them as bad as the bully.

Michelle A. Thomas