How Did I Get Here, Part 3 of 3

Originally posted on the author’s blog

After the bank, I worked part-time for a while since my husband had finally found a job after three years of being unemployed. It was time for me to take a bit of a break anyway, letting me take on a few side projects, like writing and starting an online business. I worked for TJ Maxx very briefly before taking a position with Michaels, though I would eventually leave that one because of my knee issues. Honestly, my job at Michaels was always because of the pay — I never cared for them as a company, and the employee discount was not that great compared to the other craft store.

In June of 2021, I accepted a Sales Lead position with Goodwill. I wanted to do something that felt more worthwhile than just retail, and I thought maybe Goodwill would be just different enough. It started off rocky, with me frustrated over the job and not happy with the low pay, but some of the other employees made it bearable. I decided to stay, passing up the only opportunity I have ever had to interview at PetSmart here in Lebanon.

Though the pay at Goodwill was terrible compared to Michaels, I did feel that my job had more purpose than just benefitting a corporation. However, I was told that I was too strict and had to learn to be more lenient with the employees. In the past, that would not have been a problem for me, but my position as store manager at the craft store had hardened me, creating a leader with less compassion. It was never who I wanted to be, and it was then that I realized my personality had changed after only three years of corporate management. That, and menopause.

The job itself was not terrible, though there was a lot I did not understand and had yet to learn. I was grossed out by sorting non-clothing items that were donated and preferred not to touch most merchandise on the sales floor. I would not consider myself a germaphobe, but partial lotion bottles or used cookware are not things I want to touch.

The other sales lead was a fascinating woman, as pretty on the outside as she was on the inside. Like me, she too was unable to drive a car due to anxiety and a phobia of driving. I took to her immediately and soon it felt like we were as close as sisters. It was a decent team, though the manager was only an interim manager and I had yet to meet the actual store manager, who was out on maternity leave.

The store was using an old point-of-sale operating system when I started working there — a system I helped set up way back at my job at Naylor Wine in York over ten years earlier. Probably more like twelve or thirteen years. They were planning a transition to a new system, meaning I had started at just the right time. It would be more tech-based, changing from pen and paper over to technology for some tasks, and I knew I could help some of the employees transition, just as I had done at Naylor Wine. I felt as if I finally belonged somewhere, even though I hated the job. I felt appreciated for my skills and experience, and I planned to stay and stopped applying to other jobs.

The assistant manager was new to her position, having been promoted from sales lead just as I was hired. She also worked at a bank, so she was not there during the day. The interim manager was reassigned and the store manager was set to return in just a few days. I was not sure if I would like this other manager, or if I would still feel that I belonged after, but I was optimistic.

It was a Friday in July when all hell let loose. A new employee was unloading the truck by himself due to a shortage of available freight workers. He was an elderly man who had some training but was still fairly new to the job. I was in the sorting area reassuring the employees that the new system was not going to change their job as much as they feared when we heard yelling outside at the dock. The elder employee had fallen off the truck and was laying in a puddle of his own blood. Thankfully, a passerby saw him and called for help. I immediately went into a calm state, knowing that I had to first get him medical attention and keep the other employees from panicking.

I was the only supervisor there that day — the interim manager was in a meeting and the assistant manager was working at the bank. I was still untrained and had no idea where to find emergency numbers, or even the number for the district manager. I texted out for help and the other sales lead came to my aid, even if just for mental support. The elderly man was on his way to the hospital in Hershey and another employee was trying to reach his wife. He would be okay, but we did not know that at the time.

After the chaos, I started to rapidly fall apart. My anxiety took over and a sudden realization that this was far too much for me to handle. I had no training for this at that store — I knew where to find info at my craft store, but management at that Goodwill was in chaos. I knew that going in, but I never guessed the number of safety violations or the danger looming overhead. Looking back, I should have seen the danger: there were five safety accidents in the three weeks I worked there, the last one nearly resulting in death.

After I recovered a little from my breakdown, I was informed that we had no bathrooms. The ones in the store had been closed for over a week and we had been using the ones in the grocery store next door. Now, their bathrooms were also closed. Thankfully it was not a long timeframe, but it did not help the situation.

I called off for my next shift after my mom went to the hospital in an ambulance in the middle of the night with heart concerns. She was fine, but it was too many ambulances in a short period for me. I returned to work for the following shift, stressed and still upset. I felt extremely uncomfortable there, traumatized by the elderly man’s accident. Goodwill offered no help, mental or otherwise, and I was to work the same full-time hours another week, even though I was promised I could go part-time. The returning manager needed time to catch up, and with me being used to forced compromise, I agreed.

On Wednesday, July 14, I once again dreaded going back there to work. I was mentally beaten without time to recover. Some people thought I was being dramatic, but I was never prepared for such a scene I had witnessed that Friday. I am not an ER nurse; I am a retail manager and business entrepreneur. The mental trauma from that day coupled with the returning manager was too much for me. She had insisted everything I was doing was wrong, making me again feel that I was some dumb kid, just like how my boss at the craft store had treated me.

My mom, seeing my broken movements, told me that my suffering needed to end. I was leaving the job anyway; I just didn’t know when. She suggested I turn in my notice that morning, effective immediately. I did exactly that, getting attitude from the store manager — she had not been there when the accident happened. She knew nothing of my anxiety disorder or the hell I went through that day. She knew nothing of my work history, my personality, my work ethic, or anything about me. She judged me based on one meeting, and she tried to assert her position by trying to make me feel inferior.

I left the store feeling better, knowing that I would never again have to see the blood stains on the blacktop at the dock or deal with the manager’s disapproval of how I was taught to run the store. I knew I would miss some of the employees, but it was not the right environment for me.

I returned to Michaels that September and stayed there until my health deteriorated as a result of a toxic substance ignored by management, which I wrote about on Medium: How OSHA Cost Me My Job. I have been unemployed since, not including the couple of days I worked at Target or my brief career at Boscov’s. I sometimes wonder if I will ever work again. I seem to be on some Lebanon County Blacklist, despite my hard work ethic.

Ethics…I suppose if I did not have such a high moral code and strong ethics, I would still be working for any one of my various former employers. I refuse to lower my ethical standards to fit some corporate agenda — that used to be a heroic stance, but now it just means living in poverty without an income.