I wanted to work at McDonalds. As a kid, that was my dream job because I assumed that it involved getting french fries for free (I actually don’t even know if that’s true). But as I got a little older, my interests naturally shifted from french fries into things like teaching, writing, books, fashion. And by the time it was time to apply for colleges, I applied for one known for its journalism program.
And then, as 18 year olds tend to do, by the time I got to college that was no longer what I wanted - I wanted to go into psychology because our behaviors have always been so interesting to me. I worked through a couple of classes on this track before discovering that also wasn’t the path for me (too many horrible cases involving children) and I switched to interior design - not because I loved it, but because it felt like it would fill the creative void. By the time I had graduated college, I had once again switched my focus to apparel, textiles, and merchandising (a fancy way of saying fashion).
I had loved clothes for as long as I could remember. I used to draw my own designs (though I’m a terrible visual artist) and I had been working in retail, at one store in particular, since I was 16. I worked my way from sales associate up to assistant manager so when I graduated with my fashion degree I was transferred to the store's home office to work as an assistant buyer - a dream come true. I would get to influence what was in stores. I’d get to work months ahead to see what trends were coming. I’d get to see clothes that I had chosen on women in the real world. And though I knew no one in the city, I couldn’t wait to get there to start this next chapter.
I was working under a buyer who had been there for years. Her name was Natalie and at first we got along great. She was kind and thoughtful, often bringing me back things she’d bought for me on her buying trips to NYC. She allowed me to have a lot of input and trusted me with things that I wasn’t yet qualified for. A few times, I was even able to accompany her on her trips to NYC to check out new lines from our vendors.
A month into this new job, I was feeling as if I had definitely made the right choice - even though I was incredibly lonely. My boyfriend of nearly a decade had been planning to join me in the city and I was counting the days until I wouldn’t be alone anymore.
But slowly, things started to change with Natalie. I noticed it first in the way that she’d talk to me, particularly when things didn’t go right with our vendors. These were things I often had no control over - how quickly someone responded to us, if a vendor sent the wrong sample - but yet she started to yell at me about it. The screaming soon became a daily thing and could be heard down the hall (something I later learned from a couple of girls I had formed a friendship with).
I began to dread going to work. I’d often get into the office an hour ahead of her to get things started so they’d be ready when she got there. And as soon as I heard her shoes clicking down the hall toward me, the charms on her bag announcing her arrival, my heart would speed up wondering what it was that I’d be in trouble for that day. I’d quickly scan everything, making sure it was all in place, making sure I had exactly what she needed to start her day. But within the first thirty minutes of her being at her desk, something would inevitably trigger her and there I’d be getting screamed at again.
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I’ve always prided myself on my work ethic. I’m quick to learn, I’m organized, I know how to get shit done. And I thought that because this was my first “big girl” job, this is what I could expect. This is why people said they hated to work, right? Because of this shaking nervousness, feeling like you’re going to throw up, that accompanies seeing your boss every morning?
I didn’t know where to turn. My boyfriend still hadn’t moved (and I learned shortly after this started that he wouldn’t be joining me). I really only knew a couple of the girls in the office. And I was nine and a half hours from home. So I pushed through - I didn’t want anyone to be disappointed in me. I had moved nearly ten hours away from everything and everyone I knew, convinced that this was going to be the start of something big for me.
But things only got worse. And when I ended up sitting in a doctor’s office because I’d stopped having my period and my doctor asked me if I was under any stress, I knew that this wasn’t sustainable. It was at this point that I started learning more about Natalie. I knew she was the daughter of the president of the company, but I also found out that I was around the 24th assistant that Natalie had had in the previous two years - some assistants lasting less than a week, some lasting a few months like I had.
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The final straw for me came three months into my job. I was expecting a fairly simple day because Natalie was in NYC for the day and I was just following up on orders, checking inventory, etc. But at 10 am, I got a call from Natalie. Before I could even say hello she was screaming in my ear, telling me I had sent her to the wrong location and now she was going to be late for the meeting. I let her yell, calling me names in the process, and when she was done, as calmly as I could I told her, “Natalie, I didn’t set up your appointments for today, you did.” She hung up on me.
I was shaking so badly after that call that I immediately called my mom and through tears told her I couldn’t do this anymore. I was so scared that she’d be disappointed in me, telling me that I just needed to keep trying. But of course she didn’t. She told me I’d done my best, and that it was okay to go.
I’d never walked out on a job before and I had an incredible amount of guilt about it. So, I finished out the day and before I left, I set everything out on her desk that she’d need for the following day, updating her on orders and vendors just as I had for my entire time with her. And on top I left a note explaining that I couldn’t do this anymore, that clearly I wasn’t a good fit for her assistant and that I wished her the best. And then I left.
I wish I could say that as soon as I got into the parking lot I breathed a huge sigh of relief, but that wouldn’t come until months later when I could afford to move back home to Toledo. The following three months were filled with terrible guilt, shame, and a nervousness that at any point I would see Natalie (she hadn’t called me once since I left - I assume because she was used to this). I eventually got another retail job doing merchandising for Baby Gap that allowed me to continue paying my bills until I could move, but it was agony staying there. And even more than that, it was agony knowing that the dream I had had just blown up in my face.
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It’s been YEARS since I worked with Natalie. But even still I can feel my heart race when I talk about this period of my life. I’ve had to stop several times while writing this to calm my shaky fingers. I remember around five years ago she came up as a suggested contact on my LinkedIn page and it took me nearly a full day to forget her face and move on.
It was after finally being back home that I realized that my happiness was more important than a dream job, or a certain amount of money in my bank account. I never wanted to go through something like this again. And even though I’ve had bosses that I haven’t always liked in the past, I’ve never again been back in this position. It’s also shown me again how much I value kindness, that above all else, I will be kind to people, that all things can be said with kindness. And I take that seriously in my business now.
I wish I could end this essay with a list of things I learned from this experience, but aside from those couple of things mentioned above, I would rather have not gone through it. I no longer feel guilt or shame about doing what was best for me, but even so, it remains a major disappointment in my life. And that is something I’m always trying to shake off.
Geez Sarah, I'm sorry you went through that. Now in my late 30s, I often wonder how so many people tolerated certain experiences and behaviors earlier in our careers. I suppose we didn't know better, we were scared, and we were lonely. We were doing the best we knew how to do. I'm sure glad you got out of that one. You didn't deserve that kind of treatment, not ever. I hope she learned from it, too.