Where to begin. I know what I want to say, but how do I say
it? I'm feeling a bit betrayed. I know life isn't fair, but something like this...it's
just poor morals. I never appreciated poor morals. This one is a bit long, but
the devil is always in the details and I feel it’s important to be detailed.
So just over 3 years ago I began work for the company I know I've mentioned in passing before. I transitioned there
from a company which was shutting down my department (and has since closed its
doors all together). It was just a part time job that barely paid above minimum
wage, but I was the primary breadwinner and had kids to feed, so I took it.
Even though the posting had said it
was seasonal, I gave it my all. I committed myself to providing the best
service I could, as I always do. And my hard work paid off. About two weeks in,
the office assistant went for breakfast, leaving me in charge. I had maybe 8
hours of training in the office, mostly I'd been doing housekeeping.
But I was a fast learner, and was
confident I could handle the place for 30 minutes while she went across the
street to McDonald's or something. And maybe I could have, except it didn't
take long for me to realize she hadn't logged me into the computer, and I had
no login yet. She hadn't put the cash drawer in the register, and I didn't have
the safe code. I did the best I could without those things, but also texted the
manager to let her know the current situation. She gave me the safe code and
the computer login and asked me to let her know when the other lady returned.
I would have gladly let her know when she returned, except she didn't. 30
minutes went by, no sign of her. Then an hour. Then two. I handled things to
the best of my ability with what little training I had, but the manager still
came in just before lunch time. She was apparently impressed with how I handled
things and kept cool under the pressure. I just thought I was doing my job.
The manager tried to call the
assistant, but she kept answering then hanging up. She wasn’t tech savvy, so I
figured that was her way of “rejecting” calls. About a year later, we heard
from a tenant who was still in contact with her that she was recently
hospitalized after suffering a stroke. She died a few days later. We’ll never
know why she decided to just up and leave and never return.
So that's the story of how I earned
my place at the company. I went full time, mostly office with a little housekeeping
here or there. The manager was so pleased she requested the owners give me a
raise, and they did. She then requested another at the annual review time at
the end of the year. Again, they gave it.
I was very happy working for this
company. I worked hard and gave it my all. I felt valued and appreciated. The
manager began training me on management and the back end of things, in case she
ever went on vacation for a while. It felt good to be trusted with the task,
and I knew I had earned it through my hard work and skills.
Little did I know, behind the
scenes, the manager was fighting for my rights at every turn. They wanted to
cut my hours, she fought it and I kept my hours. She fought for fair treatment
and fair wages, for all her employees if she could see they deserved it.
When I became pregnant late in
2018, I had no fear of discrimination when breaking the news; I had always
received fair treatment, so why should I? The only hesitation I had in
announcing the news (which I did in January of 2019) was that I knew that I
would need my maternity leave during busy season and I felt awful about leaving
my manager to handle busy season without me, even though they would be hiring a
temporary replacement. But I never suspected what would happen later.
I was asked to assist with the
hiring process, and she would often ask what I thought of each candidate.
Then one day in late April of 2019,
I found out the true reason she had been training me on management. She had put
in her notice and would be leaving in two weeks. She felt comfortable enough
with my skills for me to take over her spot. I was sad to see her go, but was
ready to meet my new duty with confidence.
But the owners said no. They wanted
to seek outside the company for her replacement. Of course it was suspicious. Here
I was, two and a half months from having a baby, and they don't want me, who
was trained and qualified, as manager? But it's illegal to discriminate based
on pregnancy, so of course they didn't say that. Instead, they hired outside
the company and claimed they had "found someone more qualified". Yet
I was expected to do the majority of her training? How am I qualified enough to
train for the job, but not qualified enough to do the job?
I tried to be ok with it. I told
myself and others it was probably better this way. Management is a big job. But
truly, inside, I was angry. I knew I had been discriminated against, and it
wasn't ok. But I just didn't have the proof. I moved on and let it go. The new
manager seemed nice enough.
And then the time came for
maternity leave. Less certain of how much they truly valued me at this point, I
made sure to confirm that I would be returning to my same full-time job. I was
told I would. So I took off on my 12-week leave, certain we would recover just
fine when I went back to work full time.
Except the day came that I was
supposed to start back, and I was told I would not be returning to a full-time
job, but rather be working 4 days a week, then later in the winter, they would
cut my hours more.
This was unacceptable. I can't
recover from 3 months of unpaid leave on basically no hours. And to top it off,
I would not get paid for any of my pump breaks, which took out the equivalent
of another full day every week.
Of course I expressed these
concerns directly to the owners, who conceded to allow me to keep the 4 days a
week and not cut me down any further; provided I allow them to kick me back
down the totem pole to mostly housekeeping. It wasn't ideal, and I was a bit
angry. I had dedicated so much of my life to the company and helping improve it
and helping it profit, and this is the thanks I get? But with the part-time
at-home job Steven had recently acquired, I felt we could survive financially,
at least. It still felt wrong, of course. I go on maternity leave, being made
to believe my same full-time position would be available upon my return, and it
wasn't. I wasn't completely sure it was legal, but again, also wasn't sure I
could prove it. I was dealing with two lawyers, after all. Loopholes are kind
of their thing.
But, being the resilient optimist I
am, I tried to look at the bright side. More time with my family, right? And
since Steven's few hours a week made up most the difference, we weren't
recovering quickly, but we were recovering. Again, I chose to let it go and
continue serving with my all.
It was becoming obvious the new
manager did not value the employees nearly as much as the old one did. But I
told myself and others that it was just because she was new and didn't know how
to handle the owners like the old manager did. She seemed like a nice enough
person.
Well, time progressed, and I
thought all was well. The manager and I had worked out a system (or so I
thought) where I would do the more essential housekeeping duties with the time
that I had, and the maintenance crew would handle what I did not have time for
due to my pump breaks (I have a feeling the only reason I got pump breaks was
because they couldn't find a loophole in that law to prevent me from having
them).
And all was well, going as smoothly
as it could under the circumstances. Until one day I walk in and I'm presented
with a "first and final" because of certain housekeeping tasks which
weren't satisfactory. I signed it (maybe I shouldn't have, but I'm a bit of a
pushover). But I put in the comments that I would like clarification as to why
I'm being reprimanded for duties I thought we had an agreement for due to my
time constraints. I never received any.
Another couple of months went by
and I began to forget about it. No use in hanging on to old anger. Maybe I
should have. Maybe I should have pursued it further, because a couple months
later, I come in to work for my scheduled shift and I'm told not to clock in.
I'm told I've been knocked down to just two days a week and that they'd bring
an old employee out of retirement to do housekeeping because I wasn't doing a
satisfactory job. I didn’t believe a word of it, because the tenants were
constantly raving about how much better of a cleaning job I did as opposed to the
retired employee. In hindsight, I probably should have mentioned this, but I
was fairly certain it had been brought up in front of the manager before.
Anyway, this time the things
mentioned as unsatisfactory were mostly due to the severe need for a remodel in
those areas. A remodel which has been promised to us by the owners for years
but never followed through with. There were a couple things which (I thought)
would be covered by maintenance due to my limited time. So again I was dealt
the punishment for someone else's negligence, but this time also for the
owners' lack of integrity. They also stated that since COVID had affected
business, they couldn't move me to an office position for the 4 days a week, so
they would only need me for the weekends when the manager was off.
I saw right through that as well.
They'd been trying to cut me down to two days a week for years, but the old
manager would fight back and they would concede. Now that she wasn't there and
they were finding out the new manager wouldn't fight for her employees, they
felt they could get away with anything. COVID had nothing to do with it. I was
still busy as a bee; business was doing fine. There were weekends where I couldn't
even get a break to breathe, and I barely even got a lunch.
But this time I didn't protest. I
was tired of protesting. And honestly, I shouldn’t have had to. They
should have the common decency to treat their employees right. I figured it was
the best time to get on unemployment, due to the extra COVID pay (and their
statement about COVID, though false, was at least helpful for unemployment) and
I did qualify on my reduced hours. So although I was angry at the way I was
being treated, I did what I always do and I let it go (I think my parents
should have named me Elsa). I looked at the bright side of things. Although I
knew the unemployment was temporary, I decided I'd enjoy the extra time with my
family while I could.
That brings us to just recently.
About a month ago, I started getting severe pains in my back and chest/abdomen,
accompanied by some nausea. I had problems with this before, but it would
typically only last a few hours and then be gone for weeks or months. I went in
to the ER for it one time, but was told they didn't know what the problem was
and they really didn't even do anything for me. I spent literally all night in
the ER, didn't get discharged until nearly 2 AM. All so I could get a big, fat,
nothing.
So anyway, when it came back again, I figured, "well, here we go again. In
for a miserable evening, but I'll feel better by morning." And I did.
But then it came back about a week
later, and lasted longer. And then back again a few days later, and it wouldn't
go away. It would vary in intensity, and for the most part, I managed to hide
it very well from everyone but Steven.
He urged me to go back to the ER,
but with my previous experience in mind, I figured it wouldn't do me any good.
I wasn't about to waste hours of my time on something I was certain would go
away.
I worked through the pain, I lived through the pain. I just kept telling myself
it would go away if I ignored it long enough. But it didn't, it just kept
getting worse.
Concerned, Steven did some research
on it. He figured if he could narrow down the causes a bit, he could convince
me to go to a doctor and request they look into those things.
In so doing, he narrowed it down to
gallstones as the cause of my agony. And it made sense. The symptoms I'd had,
on top of the symptoms I kept developing, all matched.
But I had such little faith in the
medical system based on previous poor experiences (some unrelated to this), and
I was stubborn. So I carried on, convinced once I passed this stone, I’d feel
fine again. Until one day the pain became so bad I knew I couldn't continue the
act. Inconveniently, I was at work at the time, but I knew I wouldn't be able
to finish out my shift. I decided I needed to suck it up and just go see a
doctor anyway. I made an impromptu appointment with an on-call doctor, seeing
that as my best option. I figured if I went to the ER again, I'd just get a
whole load of nothing again, be there all night, and potentially miss a full
day of work the next day because I'd been there all night. Plus I'd walk away
with nothing, no way to manage the pain. In contrast, I thought if I went to an
actual doctor, I could request they investigate the gallbladder and begin the
process of having that issue resolved. I thought I could schedule whatever
necessary procedures for days I wasn’t at work, and in the meantime, I thought they
could prescribe me something to manage the pain until I could be scheduled for
surgery. I thought it would be the option which would take the least amount of
time out of my life, and out of work.
And had the doctors wanted to take
me seriously, it very well could have been.
I let the manager know I needed to go to this appointment because it was very
serious (to which I got a, "sorry, you can't go. Reschedule."). I let
her know this was the time slot they had available and that I had to go because
this issue had been ongoing for weeks and needed fixed. I made it clear I was
going whether she liked it or not, so she came in to cover the rest of my
shift. I apologized for having to do this, but she could very much tell how
much pain I was in. I really did feel bad for missing work and for her having
to come in on her time off, but at the time it seemed like the best option.
Unfortunately, the doctor didn't
take me seriously. He insisted it was a muscle injury, of all things.
Disregarded all the gallbladder symptoms, and even argued with me when he
asked me what I thought it was and I stated (again) that I was fairly
sure it was my gallbladder. He prescribed me a muscle relaxant and sent me on
my way. I knew a muscle relaxant would do me no good, since it wasn't a muscle
issue, but I picked up the prescription the next day anyway.
In the meantime, I managed to
muddle through another day of work. I had scheduled myself for a follow up
appointment with my PCP for one of my days off. I was hoping maybe this one
would take me seriously. And while she was more on the right track, she still
disregarded all our research, the symptoms and even the mere possibility of gallstones.
Instead, she supposedly sent over a referral to a gastroenterologist for an
endoscopy of my esophagus, saying my problem was reflux. She also prescribed
some sort of anti-gastric-juice pill, a topical cream to use on the areas of
pain, and lidocaine patches for those areas as well. It was very frustrating. I
didn't have time to continuously fight with these doctors to be taken
seriously.
I never did receive a call from the
gastroenterologist that day. So I called them the next day only to be told they
didn't have my referral and that due to COVID, they were backlogged and likely
couldn't get to me very soon anyway.
With mounting evidence to support
my lack of trust of the medical system, I called my doctor's office and let
them know the referral never got sent. I also requested to speak with my doctor
further regarding my gallbladder, as I had developed yet another new symptom
indicating such, and I really wanted to look further into it. The receptionist
said she would resend the referral and relay my message to the doctor who would
call me back.
Well, one of those things happened.
The referral was received this time, and the gastroenterologist called to
schedule me for an endoscopy of my esophagus; somehow they did have time
to fit me in as early as the following Monday. I also requested to look into my
gallbladder as well, but apparently they don't deal with the
gallbladder...which I found odd, but figured maybe my understanding of what a
gastroenterologist did was way off or something.
Well, I never did receive a call
back from my doctor that day (which was a Thursday), nor did I receive a
callback on Friday. I suffered through those days, going about my daily life,
unsure what else to do. Unaware of how dangerous a situation I was truly in.
Then it hit. The absolute most
excruciating pain yet. It blew my mind how bad it was. I could barely speak or
walk or move. Words cannot do justice to the pain I felt. Steven had enough
watching me suffer, he demanded I go to the ER, whether I thought it would do
any good or not. I wanted to wait until Monday, but I was also in too much pain
to argue and knew I wouldn’t be able to work in this shape anyway. Still, to
help me feel better about going, he helped me write up a list of all my symptoms,
all medications taken or applied, and what we were pretty sure it was. He
called for someone to give me a ride so he could stay with the kids, and told
me to make sure the doctor got that paper. He and Megan helped pack a bag with
a few things to get me through a one night stay.
So Friday, early evening, I ended
up going to the ER. I was certain I'd come back in no better shape, but was
unsure what else to do and knew something had to be done. Let me just
say, even as a mother of three who gave birth naturally with no drugs, you
don't know pain until you've got a gallstone (or kidney stone) stuck in your
internal ducts. (And I don't mean to diminish anyone's birth experience, I'm
not saying giving birth doesn’t hurt; I'm just saying I'd rather give
birth than to have another lodged gallstone).
Anyway. I knew there was very poor
reception in the ER, and I also knew that it was likely I'd be there long
enough that I'd have to miss work the next day. So on the way, I texted my
manager and let her know I was on my way to the ER and wasn't sure how long I'd
be there but that it was unlikely I'd be able to work the next day. I truly did
feel bad about having to miss work again and have her cover on her day off, but
then again, if the doctors had taken me seriously, we could have scheduled a
surgery for sometime during the week so I wouldn't miss work.
But that's not what happened, and I
couldn't have worked in this level of pain anyway.
So into the ER I went, where I waited in misery for several hours. Finally they
brought me back and I handed them my paper (which they were apparently
impressed with). Surprisingly enough, it was apparently just the thing they
needed, and they cut straight to the chase. They also gave me some super strong
pain meds that made me very loopy and drowsy but oh my lord did it feel so good
to not be in pain for a change. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like.
Anyway, they got right down to
business and found that I had extremely severe pancreatitis caused by a
gallstone so severely lodged in the ducts that they were completely and totally
blocked, right at the intersection of the gallbladder and pancreas ducts. Had I
waited until Monday, after my work days (assuming I even had the ability
to work), I could have been dead.
So after finding the problem
surprisingly quickly for the ER on a busy night, they admitted me around 11:30
that night. Since there was no signal in the ER, I'd been using wifi to
communicate with Steven over Discord. I had him send an update to my manager so
she wouldn't be left wondering, although that was earlier in the night so there
wasn't a lot to update on yet.
I was drugged up, but I slept great
that night. Probably because of all the painkillers I was on. I don't think
I've ever slept that well. The next day, they took me down for some procedure I
never remember the name of; but basically they put me under, used a stint to
open up my ducts wider, and flushed the stone out.
Let me just say, I now understand
why babies can be so cranky when they wake up. It's very disconcerting
to go to sleep in one place and wake up in a whole new place you've never seen
before.
Anyway, other than that and the fact I apparently breathed in some fluid while
I was under, I felt so much better afterwards. The pain was gone,
I felt like a whole new person. But with as full of stones as my gallbladder
was--many of them just as large or larger than the one that was stuck--it was
necessary to remove the gallbladder to prevent this from happening again, as it
almost certainly would.
So I was scheduled for surgery for
the next day. I made sure to let my manager know, as now that I was no longer
in the emergency department, I actually had service. You'd think of all the
places in a hospital, the emergency room would be the place you'd most want
signal. But anyway, point is, I'd let her know just as soon as I had the
information. That was all I could do.
The next day came, and I was told
I'd been scheduled for 1 PM. They also took my vitals as usual. Except this
time, in so doing, I showed early signs of sepsis. In very short order, there
was a whole crew of medical personnel in my room, crowding to do this, that,
and another thing to help me fight it. It couldn't have been more than an hour
later, my fever was gone and everything appeared normal again. I was relieved;
I'd begun to worry that it would prevent me from getting the surgery which
would just delay my getting to go home and see my family again. Did I ever miss
them so.
The time came to prep me for
surgery. They came to my room to get me and bring me down to the pre-op room. I
had been coughing all night and barely slept, due to the fluid I'd inhaled. But
I was ready to get this over with. Due to my cough, they decided to do a
breathing treatment before the surgery. The doctor came in while I was doing
that, and after some discussion decided to call off the surgery until the fluid
cleared up.
I was crushed. I was so hopeful I'd
be reunited with my family by the next day. But now? Now I had to stay in the
hospital as long as it took to clear up my lungs. It could be a day, it could
be weeks. I missed my babies so much.
Back up to my room I went. They
took me off the IV fluids so maybe my lungs would dry out faster. They gave me
half a dose of something I don't remember the name of that made me pee like
crazy, hoping to further help them clear up, and they tentatively scheduled me
for surgery the next day. I was afraid to get my hopes up.
I was starving, I hadn't had
anything solid to eat in over two days. They'd put me on a clear-liquids diet
the day before, just because I was complaining of being so hungry, but I'm not
sure you can really count Popsicles and broth as food. It sure didn't feel like
food. I requested a low-fat diet for that day since I wouldn't be having
surgery and they conceded to allow that.
God was I hungry. Food never tasted
so good. Even salad without dressing was divine. But of course, they cut me off
after midnight in case the surgery went through the next day.
And along came Monday. I wasn't
scheduled to work until the next Saturday, but I continued to keep my manager
updated anyway; thinking she was human and probably cared. I mean, she used to
work in nursing homes, that's the kind of thing people who care about other
people do, right? Maybe not. After all this I'm afraid for the residents who
lived in the homes she managed.
My cough had gone away and my lungs
had cleared up, so I was scheduled for surgery at 11. However, they were late
coming to get me, it was nearly 11 before they even brought me down to the
pre-op room. Once down there, I watched 3.5 episodes of The Middle on the TV
with very little interaction from anyone before I was finally brought into the
OR. I'm not sure why all the delay this time; last time, had the doc not pulled
the cord, I probably would have gone in within minutes.
Anyway, I finally got brought in
and the next thing I remember is waking up in the recovery room with the most
sore upper back ever. Those operating tables are very hard, and my back was
making sure to tell me all about how it did not appreciate lying on it for
hours. They asked me what my name and date of birth were, which was something I
got asked on a minutely basis during my stay there, it seemed like. At that
point I probably could have answered them in my sleep.
My back continued to yell at me all
day, but otherwise I recovered nicely. I was able to go onto a GI soft diet,
which was pretty similar to the low-fat diet. Food is just so awesome. You
never realize how much you appreciate it until you go without for so long.
I wasn't able to be released that
day, but the next day was looking promising. Megan had a playdate scheduled for
that afternoon, but Steven took her and it worked out well. The park it was at
was near the hospital, and I got released while he was there. He left the kids
with the other parents and came to pick me up. I was finally free.
We went back to the park and let
the kids play for a while, then stopped by Walmart for some Gatorade, as I was
still pretty dehydrated. Steven ran in to pick it up, and then we went home.
My muscles were unbelievably sore
that night, and I couldn’t even lie in bed. I ended up sleeping on the couch,
but only needed Tylenol to manage the soreness for the first day and a half.
Though I continued needing to sleep
on the couch until just a couple days ago, I've felt fantastic during the day.
More than capable of returning to work, as long as I don't over exert myself by
trying to lift more than 20 lbs.
The day I got released, I let my
manager know, and made sure she knew I had been cleared for immediate return to
work. I got a reply that they had brought back the lady who had covered my position
while I was on maternity leave, and that I no longer had a position at the
company.
I was shocked (although in
hindsight, I guess I shouldn’t have been, considering all of the above things).
Through all of this, I had only missed 2 1/4 days of work, for which I had
enough PTO to cover it all. I wouldn't have even missed that much if the PCP
doctors had taken me seriously, but I don't see how the fact that they didn't
is my fault. All I know is if I had taken the extra time to convince them to
listen to me, I could be dead now. If I had waited until after my work days to
go to the ER, I could be dead now.
And yet, the response I get when I
asked my manager, "I know you're under orders, but does doing this leave
you with a clear conscience?" was, "Yes." And how does she
justify that? Because "You don't work Monday - Friday, so you could have
scheduled your doctor's appointment for a day you're off."
Sure, maybe I could have, but as I
mentioned earlier; and as she well knew because I had told her that day,
I was in so much pain I could not have finished my shift. If I wasn't going to
be able to finish my shift, I figured I might as well do something to fix
the issue; or at least try to. It was better than just going home and doing
nothing, then risking not being able to work the next day because of the pain.
At least I was able to obtain things that just barely helped me manage
the pain enough to work the next day.
But ideally they'd have rathered I work to the point I collapsed in
excruciating pain or in death, one or the other, and this statement made that
abundantly clear.
She also justified her reasoning by
saying, "You also chose to go to the ER on a Friday evening, knowing you
worked the next day."
Yes, yes I did. But as I mentioned
earlier, and as I said to her, I wasn't even going to go in. I was going to
suffer through it until Monday when I was off. Which honestly is ridiculous
because there's absolutely no way I could have worked in that level of pain. I
can't even put into words how much it hurt. The only reason I went in that day
was because Steven was more stubborn and convinced me to go. And as I told her,
"Had I waited until Monday, there is a very high chance I would be
dead."
Now of course, if the doctor had
taken me seriously that day I went in for the last minute appointment, I could
have scheduled surgery a LOT sooner and been done, released, and ready to go
back to work that weekend that I missed. But that's not the way it worked, and
apparently it's all my fault? Everything they've done to me is on me?
Discriminating and passing me over for promotion, cutting my hours upon return
from maternity leave, cutting my hours further as an attempt to get me to leave
so they wouldn't have to pay unemployment, not being taken seriously by the
doctors, not being willing to die for my job...yeah, that's all totally on me.
Sure, that's all justified. Whatever helps you sleep at night, I guess.
All in all, it's not necessarily
the loss of the job that bothers me. I would rather work for an employer which
actually values me and my life and health anyway. What bothers me is the lack
of morals and empathy through the whole thing. The only thing that matters to
these people is the almighty dollar. They clearly have no problem sacrificing
lives to obtain it, even though they already have millions. And the management
they hired had no problem assisting them with that. Not even so much as a word
in my defense, when my life was at stake. I just can't comprehend it. I can't
put into words how astonished I am by this behavior.
But I certainly know now I must be
less trusting. I naturally try to see the good in people and in bad situations.
Maybe I need to stop doing that. I'm not sure I know how, even now. But
obviously, at very least, I've come to realize I need to prioritize my health
higher than I have been. I can see now how stupid it was to place my employment
for a company who couldn't care less if I died on the clock ahead of my life
and health. So at least it was a learning opportunity, I guess.
I'm still hurt by the way I was
treated. I still feel betrayed. I thought this manager was a good person. She
seemed so nice and we got along great. I had no idea she so severely lacked morals.
I had no idea she would support the pursuit of the dollar ahead of her
employees' lives. I severely misjudged her and will definitely be more cautious
moving forward. I also hope no one else has to go through what I went through
with that company. Nobody deserves that (unless they have morals like the owner
or the manager, then maybe. But even then, I'd feel bad and not wish it upon
them because I know what it's like). And if you've managed to bear with me until
the end of this, and you're currently working for someone who has made it
obvious that you don't matter, I urge you to seek better employment elsewhere,
ASAP. You deserve better, and your employer does not deserve you. Please take
care of yourself, you're the only you there is; and no one can be you better
than you. As always, take care and stay well, my friends.
