I've been pretty forthright about this before, but I have panic disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, and clinical depression. I'm on medication for it, and the nature of these for me is usually eposodic. While I sometimes have the 'can't get out of bed' type of depression, usually I'm perfectly fine, until something tiny sets me off, and then I have a meltdown.
I've been fine for six months. I've had trouble getting out of bed some days, I had two mild panic attacks two months ago, but it's been going good. It took about a week for my new job to break the streak.
Let's see if I can figure out how. The job, for your information, was a Way of the Sub.
Some of you remember the potentially anorexic coworker? Well, she became pretty off-putting pretty quickly. While I'm forthright about my issues, she practically shoved them down your throat. In the first two days with her, I learned she'd been in the army, discharged when she had an anxiety attack, got pregnant at 16, had a miscarriage, and was on a four day eating cycle, where she only ate every four days.
Well, as the stress started to get to me, she decided to add to it. (Don't go into fratching on this please, it's an easy topic to do so, but let's not). She worked out that I was on antidepressants--I just mentioned I thought I could wait until my dinner break to take my meds but the stress was getting to me--and asked me how I dealt with my illnesses and romantic relationships. My response?
Me: Well, my first boyfriend was abusive, and my second boyfriend cheated on me. With a guy. So... (not good ).
She then went to say that he was probably gay if he chose a guy over a girl, and that her ex-boyfriend had been bi, and she dumped him for it because gay people were gross. She knew they were 'born that way' but they were still gross and the bible only talked about heterosexual relationships, so it was forboden.
I had to wrap up the convo as I was almost done mopping by her, so I just went into a soft theological debate with her. She was called to go on break just then, and asked if I was willing to make her a sandwich.
I let my snark get the better of me, and asked if she would mind that it was made by a lesbian. She didn't talk to me for the rest of the night, and didn't respond when I apologized for snapping at her.
We were often paired for shifts, until she unexpectedly disappeared. It turns out, her diet got to her, and she wasn't able to stand during the entire shift, and was fired for it.
I think this was the big one. There is one kind of person in the world that is a master of setting off my anxiety. I can handle always angry, always happy, weird, quirky, hard to get... but the unpredictable get me. Not like my High School psychology teacher, where he would, once in a blue moon, do things like yell out buzzer noises when we did wrong answers, but would otherwise be completely collected.
I mean like, 50% of the time, the person is your best friend. A joker. You could get away with saying just about anything to them, and they'd just laugh along. But the other 50% of the time, you even start your question wrong, and your head is gone. This was my manager. It took me longer to realize it than I should have, but eventually, I did figure it out.
How one minute she'd go from: "I guess I can't yell at you for being slow on your second day" to screaming at me over getting the wrong amount of olives on the sandwich, when it's hard to give them exactly 6, and they rarely do want exactly 6 black olives.
The most notable was when she yelled at me for asking what to do with the bread machine, as it was beeping, but in my panic, I'd forgotten that the drive-through gal, who was currently taking an order, could hear me too. She lectured me for about ten minutes on that brain burp. And from then on, she never gave me a headset, even if there was one availible.
Another incident was when I was heading out to do tables. While squeezing out the rag, I asked a co-worker doing dishes how his day was doing. He said his uncle was in the hospital to get his galbladder removed.
Me: Well, don't worry about it. I mean, chances are he'll be fine. I don't know the specifics, but-
Manager: You aren't paid to talk to him!
I'm sorry I tried to comfort an upset coworker...
But, I went to work just feeling awful. I could barely drag myself in, and didn't get there the requisit five minutes early. I had trouble dragging myself about, and just felt exhausted. I started to wonder what it'd feel like to quit. I had a split-shift, which meant I had an hour for lunch. In prep for this, I had taken my laptop, and figured I'd spend the hour writing.
Instead, I decided I was going to discuss with my mother over IM about quitting.
As I was heading out to do so, I saw a co-worker sitting down. I sat across from her, and the convo basically went like this:
Me: What'cha up to? Waiting to start your shift?
Her: No, I came in and they said they wanted me to work tomorrow instead, so I'm waiting for a ride.
(I offer her a ride, she declines.)
Her: So what are you up to?
me: I've got an hour long lunch break today.
Her: Is (first shift manager) nice?
Me: Yeah, he doesn't seem all there, but he's pretty nice. Why?
Her: I'm getting my hours switched over to mornings. (our manager) worries me.
Me: What for?
Her: Well, don't tell her I said this, but I feel like she's trying to make excuses for firing people. And I really need this job.
That's when I realized it wasn't just me seeing this, and I wasn't the only one going into fear over-drive around her.
I had two customers nominate me for employee of the month (not a real thing at that store), and one wanted to talk to my manager to compliment me, which was awesome, even if it was my last day.
I worked out the rest of the time, deciding not to talk to the manager about quitting while on the clock. I took my hat off after I clocked out, and headed for the back door.
Manager: Can we talk?
Me: Yeah, sure.
Manager: (other manager) said you were late today.
Me: Yeah, I was.
Manager:T his isn't working out.
Me: I agree. I was going to talk to you about that actually.
Manager: I'm glad we agree. So you won't work the rest of the week, and you can get your paycheck in two weeks, if you bring in your uniform.
And it's over.
My father was pretty sure I wasn't motivated enough to keep the job. It's kinda the down-side of genuinely believing anything can be achieved if you work hard enough. Those who don't achieve weren't working hard enough. He's been breathing down my neck to get another job, and now that I've had a bit of time to unwind from all that, I started putting out applications again.
I just hope I do better this time.
I know I gotta keep my foot out of my mouth. I tend to be a giant walking awkward turtle. And my mental illnesses are pretty mild, now that I'm on medication (even if my father is insistent I don't need it, and I somehow managed to talk doctors into diagnosing me with these for attention). I'm just pretty shaken to learn that I fell apart so quickly. I had two meltdowns a week when I worked there (two weeks) that were bad enough to rival the ones I had the day I got diagnosed in the first place.
So, do I suck? And any advice to help me suck less? My first job was pretty good in that all my coworkers (all seven of them, so on a much smaller scale than this) were all pretty good, non-biased people with even tempers (or at least a determination to not take it out on me.) My schedule was flexible, so if I couldn't pull myself out of bed until the afternoon (which was harder when my medication dosage was higher, one of them makes me sleepy) I was forgiven for it.
I'm keeping away from fast food, as I think the pace of it didn't do a lot of good for me, and I'm trying for sales associate and cashier jobs, which my mother says should be easier for me to find this season.
And most importantly, if I'm asked about what happened with my last job, what do I say?
I've been fine for six months. I've had trouble getting out of bed some days, I had two mild panic attacks two months ago, but it's been going good. It took about a week for my new job to break the streak.
Let's see if I can figure out how. The job, for your information, was a Way of the Sub.
The Coworkers
Some of you remember the potentially anorexic coworker? Well, she became pretty off-putting pretty quickly. While I'm forthright about my issues, she practically shoved them down your throat. In the first two days with her, I learned she'd been in the army, discharged when she had an anxiety attack, got pregnant at 16, had a miscarriage, and was on a four day eating cycle, where she only ate every four days.
Well, as the stress started to get to me, she decided to add to it. (Don't go into fratching on this please, it's an easy topic to do so, but let's not). She worked out that I was on antidepressants--I just mentioned I thought I could wait until my dinner break to take my meds but the stress was getting to me--and asked me how I dealt with my illnesses and romantic relationships. My response?
Me: Well, my first boyfriend was abusive, and my second boyfriend cheated on me. With a guy. So... (not good ).
She then went to say that he was probably gay if he chose a guy over a girl, and that her ex-boyfriend had been bi, and she dumped him for it because gay people were gross. She knew they were 'born that way' but they were still gross and the bible only talked about heterosexual relationships, so it was forboden.
I had to wrap up the convo as I was almost done mopping by her, so I just went into a soft theological debate with her. She was called to go on break just then, and asked if I was willing to make her a sandwich.
I let my snark get the better of me, and asked if she would mind that it was made by a lesbian. She didn't talk to me for the rest of the night, and didn't respond when I apologized for snapping at her.
We were often paired for shifts, until she unexpectedly disappeared. It turns out, her diet got to her, and she wasn't able to stand during the entire shift, and was fired for it.
The Boss
I think this was the big one. There is one kind of person in the world that is a master of setting off my anxiety. I can handle always angry, always happy, weird, quirky, hard to get... but the unpredictable get me. Not like my High School psychology teacher, where he would, once in a blue moon, do things like yell out buzzer noises when we did wrong answers, but would otherwise be completely collected.
I mean like, 50% of the time, the person is your best friend. A joker. You could get away with saying just about anything to them, and they'd just laugh along. But the other 50% of the time, you even start your question wrong, and your head is gone. This was my manager. It took me longer to realize it than I should have, but eventually, I did figure it out.
How one minute she'd go from: "I guess I can't yell at you for being slow on your second day" to screaming at me over getting the wrong amount of olives on the sandwich, when it's hard to give them exactly 6, and they rarely do want exactly 6 black olives.
The most notable was when she yelled at me for asking what to do with the bread machine, as it was beeping, but in my panic, I'd forgotten that the drive-through gal, who was currently taking an order, could hear me too. She lectured me for about ten minutes on that brain burp. And from then on, she never gave me a headset, even if there was one availible.
Another incident was when I was heading out to do tables. While squeezing out the rag, I asked a co-worker doing dishes how his day was doing. He said his uncle was in the hospital to get his galbladder removed.
Me: Well, don't worry about it. I mean, chances are he'll be fine. I don't know the specifics, but-
Manager: You aren't paid to talk to him!
I'm sorry I tried to comfort an upset coworker...
The Final Day
But, I went to work just feeling awful. I could barely drag myself in, and didn't get there the requisit five minutes early. I had trouble dragging myself about, and just felt exhausted. I started to wonder what it'd feel like to quit. I had a split-shift, which meant I had an hour for lunch. In prep for this, I had taken my laptop, and figured I'd spend the hour writing.
Instead, I decided I was going to discuss with my mother over IM about quitting.
As I was heading out to do so, I saw a co-worker sitting down. I sat across from her, and the convo basically went like this:
Me: What'cha up to? Waiting to start your shift?
Her: No, I came in and they said they wanted me to work tomorrow instead, so I'm waiting for a ride.
(I offer her a ride, she declines.)
Her: So what are you up to?
me: I've got an hour long lunch break today.
Her: Is (first shift manager) nice?
Me: Yeah, he doesn't seem all there, but he's pretty nice. Why?
Her: I'm getting my hours switched over to mornings. (our manager) worries me.
Me: What for?
Her: Well, don't tell her I said this, but I feel like she's trying to make excuses for firing people. And I really need this job.
That's when I realized it wasn't just me seeing this, and I wasn't the only one going into fear over-drive around her.
I had two customers nominate me for employee of the month (not a real thing at that store), and one wanted to talk to my manager to compliment me, which was awesome, even if it was my last day.
I worked out the rest of the time, deciding not to talk to the manager about quitting while on the clock. I took my hat off after I clocked out, and headed for the back door.
Manager: Can we talk?
Me: Yeah, sure.
Manager: (other manager) said you were late today.
Me: Yeah, I was.
Manager:T his isn't working out.
Me: I agree. I was going to talk to you about that actually.
Manager: I'm glad we agree. So you won't work the rest of the week, and you can get your paycheck in two weeks, if you bring in your uniform.
And it's over.
Aftermath
My father was pretty sure I wasn't motivated enough to keep the job. It's kinda the down-side of genuinely believing anything can be achieved if you work hard enough. Those who don't achieve weren't working hard enough. He's been breathing down my neck to get another job, and now that I've had a bit of time to unwind from all that, I started putting out applications again.
I just hope I do better this time.
I know I gotta keep my foot out of my mouth. I tend to be a giant walking awkward turtle. And my mental illnesses are pretty mild, now that I'm on medication (even if my father is insistent I don't need it, and I somehow managed to talk doctors into diagnosing me with these for attention). I'm just pretty shaken to learn that I fell apart so quickly. I had two meltdowns a week when I worked there (two weeks) that were bad enough to rival the ones I had the day I got diagnosed in the first place.
So, do I suck? And any advice to help me suck less? My first job was pretty good in that all my coworkers (all seven of them, so on a much smaller scale than this) were all pretty good, non-biased people with even tempers (or at least a determination to not take it out on me.) My schedule was flexible, so if I couldn't pull myself out of bed until the afternoon (which was harder when my medication dosage was higher, one of them makes me sleepy) I was forgiven for it.
I'm keeping away from fast food, as I think the pace of it didn't do a lot of good for me, and I'm trying for sales associate and cashier jobs, which my mother says should be easier for me to find this season.
And most importantly, if I'm asked about what happened with my last job, what do I say?
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