I am generally nonchalant—but I am also considerate. I blend in, I give respect to colleagues, friends, and superiors in the workplace. I see myself as an average employee who does what is expected and is content with where I am. I am not aggressively career-driven. I simply want to do work I enjoy, get paid, enjoy life after work, and quietly exist in this cruel world.
With over 15 years of corporate experience, not much fazes me anymore. I’ve met both great and difficult people. Toxic behavior at work usually doesn’t bother me deeply—I get annoyed, yes, but I move on quickly.
However, 2025 gave me an experience I will remember for the rest of my life.
In January 2025, I left my longest employment—almost seven years. It felt like the right time to move forward. I carry only gratitude for that company and the people who became my family during those years.
By March 2025, I accepted a contract role. I wanted to try something new and experience working in BGC. The adjustment was quick. I enjoyed the volume hiring setup, the environment, and breezed through those three months. I was offered a four-month extension, but I declined after receiving a full-time offer from a company similar to my previous employer—a competitor.
Despite hearing discouraging feedback about the company and its management, I chose to give them the benefit of the doubt. I believed optimism could change things. And it did—but not in the way I hoped.
On my first day, I already felt something was off. The vibe raised red flags. Still, I told myself to give it a month. I am not a quitter. I gave my best effort and genuinely wanted to thrive. The company was small, and I saw potential. I secured my first sale within my first month and built a healthy pipeline. But when an environment feels deeply negative, things tend to spiral. Murphy’s Law applied—everything that could go wrong did.
By my second month, the red flags I sensed on day one became undeniable. Management openly disrespected employees, spoke badly about their own practice leads, micromanaged relentlessly, humiliated recruiters who lost sales, and made employees feel indebted for their salary and employment. The environment was suffocating. There was no sense of genuine connection—only fear. Management felt like predators waiting for you to fail so they could point it out.
I was ready to resign, but my lead encouraged me to wait until year-end. Eventually, even she could no longer endure it. Her physical and mental health deteriorated, and her doctor advised her to leave due to panic attacks triggered by the workplace. She resigned before I did.
In my third month, I answered a temperature check survey and honestly shared my observations. I was diplomatic—my intention was to raise awareness, not attack. I believed leadership might not realize how unhappy employees were because no one spoke up. I chose to speak up.
What I received in return was defensiveness and insults. I was labeled a mediocre recruiter—overpaid and underperforming.
Around this time, my health declined. I was sick on and off starting my second month. I was hospitalized, and shortly after, suffered a severe flu with chest pains and difficulty breathing. I dreaded waking up each day. I hated interacting with them.
When I submitted my resignation, the managing director spoke to me condescendingly, emphasizing their decade-long presence in the industry and saying it was insulting to “accuse” them of not caring for their people. My feedback was never received constructively—it was met with retaliation.
I stood my ground and remained honest.
Leaving was the right decision—but the aftermath was heavy. It took more than a month to recover. I cried daily, questioning what I did to deserve such treatment. I felt useless, abused, and inadequate. I isolated myself, avoided friends, and stayed in my room. I tried to help myself through hobbies, but the nights were brutal. I felt overwhelmingly alone, despite knowing I wasn’t.
This new year, I’m writing this in the hope of leaving these experiences behind so I can move forward into a new chapter. I want to return to the version of myself who was excited to explore, to experience life without baggage. Life is good beyond the looking glass—and this is my first step toward making that belief real again.
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