Emergency Exit

Do we ever really pay attention to the safety briefing before the flight? And if we do, is it because we want to be polite to the demonstrating air staff or because we truly believe that there may be a time when we would need to recall this information and act on it, and it could save our lives?

I think about this as I sit in the safety of my home, fresh after a spectacular Sunday afternoon nap, right before I sink into the pre-Monday slump. I went through my twenties not really knowing why people got so grumpy about Mondays, what a decadent privilege that was.

As I watched S4 of “The Bear”, I realised that though my mother didn’t drive a car through the living room (would be tough as we live on the 10th floor), but I do share some PTSD with Carmie.

The journey of healing from the daily humiliation and berating that comes from having a narcissist, toxic boss is longer than I anticipated. In fact, I seem to have only survived because of deep, deep denial of how bad things were. When I look back and remember the comments, snide sideways remarks, direct insults, being called lazy and told in different ways that I am not smart enough, fast enough, hard-working enough, I am bewildered at how much I tolerated. Yes, I “pushed back”, this being I thought, a vital part of my nature and identity. But I tolerated far, far more than I admitted to myself then. The reaction I am getting now from institutional “mentors” is: why didn’t you report it? Why did you put up with it?

The irony of corporate bullshit. No one cares about anything beyond numbers, but they need to pretend like they do.

I put up with it because it kept me close to my dream.

But being out of it has opened my eyes to how much it has cost me. My mental health deteriorated (yes, in spite of having a therapist!). My physical health has suffered in spite of being more or less regular at the gym. I cut myself off socially, because it was all I could do to put up with subtle and sometimes direct disrespect all day, and come home and shut off mentally. I had no energy to give nor receive, and survived through isolation. For over a year, I made no friends, and no efforts to find any. When I did find friends, I had my walls high up, boundaries drawn tight and protected myself within my island castle.

5 months on, a curtain has been lifted. I see that the “old team”, his followers leaving was the best thing that happened. It was one of the most stressful periods of my life, but now, I don’t have to prove my worth to people who blindly follow toxic assholes, because they think this is the meaning of ambition.

What simultaneously confuses me and makes perfect sense is that I started to embody his “leadership” style (if it can be called that). Not the berating team members, insults, and having favourites, but the impatience, the distance and aloofness. I am told I managed to not let the stress flow down, that I handled it so well, that I am strong, and others left much earlier. Does that make me strong, a survivor or stupid? Someone who has no instinct for self preservation?

The curtain gone, I also see the new team members as actual people. Human beings with their own past, ambitions and sense of humour. Not just “resources”. Where the consulting industry has fucked up truly is the term “resources”. It is thrown around like we are talking about stone, sheep and brick from Catan. Countless studies have shown that people stay loyal to companies that treat them well, the standard of well here being as low as like humans.

As I started writing this, I wanted to challenge myself and find the humour in this, improve my writing. But clearly it takes more skill or more trauma or more time to turn darkness into light. For now, I need to decide whether to go through the next flight with no emergency exit, fully committed and passionate as my nature dictates, or be nurtured by this environment, looking out for only myself and always have 1 hand on the “pull handle to release door” sign.