The Final Walk Away From A Toxic Work Environment

My last day of work was pretty uneventful. I got through the day without truly interacting with anyone. Around noon, I did go to the hiring manager to find out what I needed to do to close out the work day. Her answer was astounding to me. Unlike what she’d told me when I was first hired, I was supposed to turn in my badge, uniform attire, and any gadgets I’d been given to do my work. She actually said none of these things. In fact, she told me the only thing I needed to do was to inform the coach for my department so that he could eliminate my name from the schedule.

Astounded by the hiring manager’s answer, I almost turned to walk away, but I remained for a small moment to take in her demeanor and behavior towards me. She was very distant … her old self … the person I remember from the early days. As she sat facing her computer with her back towards me, I recognized that she didn’t have the decency to even look at me … to face me. This is something I’ve known narcissists to do when they wanted to dismiss me and place me in their discard piles where they banished others who’d angered them so.

Before I walked out of the office, I almost asked the hiring manager if she was sure that’s all I needed to do regarding my departure, but I remained quiet. Based on her demeanor, she seemed rather dismissive of my presence – treating me as if I was not even in the same room with her. She acknowledged me just enough to answer my question but not enough to where she was truthful about any of what she told me. I could have called her out of her behavior, but I kept silent and smiled to myself. I honestly believed she was hoping I would change my mind and remain.

When I turned to walk away, I almost went back to the office to tell the hiring manager I was grateful for the opportunity, but I chose not to do that. In that moment, she could not have reminded me of my narcissist mother more – so effortlessly dismissive of my presence but so insulted by it at the same time. I laughed to myself when I realized she’d been eerily nice to me for nearly seven months because I chose to rescind my first resignation. I guess she thought, she’d been nice to me for nothing.

Needless to say, I took a deep sigh and went to search out the coach. When I found him and told him I needed to be written out of the schedule, he was in disbelief. He had no idea it was my last day until I mentioned it. The hiring manager, who normally always tells the proper people when an employee leaves, hadn’t mentioned a thing to anyone about my two-week notice. After the initial shock wore off, he asked me what I was going to do with myself. I couldn’t help but wonder why this was always a question for the one leaving as if the ones remaining didn’t consider the workplace even remotely toxic.

I responded with something benign so as not reveal my new job plans or its location. It was odd that the coach seemed disappointed and surprised at the same time. Just weeks before, I had confronted him about the lack of privacy I felt I had during my times of sickness with so many people preying around to find out from various chains of command why I was absent and when I was returning. I could only wonder if this coach was glad that I would no longer be a nuisance in that way because I had a way of mentioning ‘accountability’ without ever actually using the word.

Needless to say, my announcement that it was my last day took him by shock on the surface, and after walking away, I realized I still had two hours of work remaining and that I didn’t want my information to be revealed until after I was gone. It had dawned on me that absolutely no one but the hiring manager knew of my plans. She hadn’t said a word about my two-week notice at all. So there was no leak. I now wonder if she even took my resignation seriously, considering I rescinded the first one. I don’t know if she hoped that I’d be as wishy-washy as she may have thought of me the first time, but whatever the case, she never said a word to the managers, coaches, or team leads of my specific department.

Although I wanted to keep the news to myself, I felt there were at least three people I wanted to tell. One person I’d been fond of from the moment we’d met, and I was proud of her growth over the past year. She’d been mercilessly bullied by two previous team leads and a few other coworkers, but I thought that after those people were gone that she should try the position as team lead herself. I thought she had great leadership qualities, and it turns out, that’s exactly what she decided to do. Over that past year, I’d seen her grow as a leader, and I was so proud of her. Since I was now aware that no one knew of my approaching departure, I wanted to let her know, but unfortunately, she left work before I had the chance.

So, I ended up telling two people – one fellow coworker who’d formed her own factious group to deal with the mobsters and another coworker who worked in another department. I found both of these coworkers somewhat easy to talk to, and they were always so kind to me. Although I recognized that one of them realized that my need for clarification and my talking points over the same topics for such clarification was some type of issue, that coworker still treated me with kindness and respect. When I shared with both of these coworkers that it was my last day, they were very surprised, but they both wished me well. One even reached out and gave me a hug.

It was then that I’d realized that I had been projecting my own distance onto others. The distance I perceived from some coworkers was really my growing distance towards them. Mind you, many coworkers behaved as they usually behaved towards me anyway because I never knew for sure where I stood with them, was never able to have comfortable conversations with them, and was never able to find my fit in the grand scheme of where they stood with me as a fellow coworker. In my attempts to protect myself and keep my business private, I realized that I was the projector in most cases. The coworkers in question were simply being who they always were – nosey, standoffish, manipulative, silent and judgmental.

During my last hour of work, I felt a tug of emotion. As I walked around completing tasks, I realized that I was about to lose a routine that I’d grown accustomed to for a year and a half. It wasn’t going to be a routine I’d miss, but it was a routine, nonetheless. Even though the work environment was toxic, I’d miss some of coworkers, particularly the ones who were always kind to me. I’d miss greeting them. I’d miss the quick exchanges of smiles. I’d even miss the grumpy ones who grew to greet me over time.

However, there was far more about the work environment that I wouldn’t miss than I would miss, and that’s what was so puzzling about my own emotions. I felt a great sadness that I absolutely didn’t comprehend. It was the same emotion I felt on the day I left my previous job of over 20 years. I wanted to cry then too, but I kept those emotions in check as all the memories of what had occurred over time came to the surface. I think it was the possibility of what could have been but never would be that was so disappointing for me. I had hopes, but those hopes never materialized. I’d come, I’d been there, and I hadn’t conquered.

I’d come, and I didn’t feel that my presence made much of a difference. Instead, my presence in most cases seemed to be an irritant. I’d been there, and the only thing I felt noticed for was that I was ‘different’ in some way and should be pushed out by some who didn’t like me there. I hadn’t conquered with love because some of the coworkers I was surrounded by seemed so filled with the opposite of love. I don’t want to say they hated me to the extreme, but they didn’t like me so much, and many of them didn’t have a hard time showing their dislike of me either.

Not that I had a need to be liked, but I did want to be able to work in peace without being hassled by mobsters and disrespectful others based on their insecurities. I didn’t wish to be so different that I’d be a target for bullying even if most of the bullying was silent manipulations and silent ploys. In many ways, I just couldn’t win. The cards were already stacked against me from the start. Sometimes I think that if the hiring manager hadn’t gone around telling everyone about my previous position based on the information from my job application, maybe I wouldn’t have been a target. Of course, I would have most likely been a target anyway because of my personality and obvious quirks.

Far too many times there were attempts by some coworkers to humble me. In fact, when I was set up to do a new position days before my last day, I was apparently so good at completing the assigned tasks (according to two team leads) that a person I’d never suspected would have a complaint came over to me to tell me all the things that I was doing wrong. One team lead even complained as well, repeating to someone, “There doesn’t seem to be anything she can’t do except not use so much tape!” This I found odd to be said because it was a job that others could do too, and most of the ones who completed the tasks used far more tape and other materials than I did. It’s just that with minimal explanations at the time of my training, I think I was supposed to fail at it.

Needless to say, in my final hour, ironically, I had an encounter with a coworker who’d haggled me over being selectively mute. She could not fathom how I suffered from this condition because I didn’t look selectively mute. On my last day, I found myself frozen to tell her that it was my last day. Although this coworker had been nice enough, I felt too overly emotional to express myself and couldn’t get the words out to tell her. So I just walked beside her in silence as we neared the work area hoping she wouldn’t be too angry after finding out that I hadn’t told her that it was my last day. I hoped that she would instead remember what I told her about selective mutism being an extreme anxiety disorder over speaking in specific situations.

Upon clocking out to make my disappearance, no one seemed to notice. It was a typical day as usual, but the only difference was that I lingered a little more than normal. Instead of walking out, I took my farewell card out from my jacket pocket that was carefully wrapped inside of a ziploc bag and handed it to a team lead. I told him that it could be read to the entire team the next day since I wouldn’t be there. Then I told him to be sure that I was written out of the schedule for the future since it was my last day.

When I said this, the team lead looked perplexed as he took an immediate gulp of air that seem to be drawn inward as if I had sucked the very last bit of air out of the room. Another coworker, whom I’d liked, was standing nearby and overheard. She was also in shock. I felt instant grief, and this I didn’t want nor need. I didn’t want to bet emotional. I just wanted to end things. It was hard enough, and I didn’t want to battle through tears that felt as if they would soon flood my eyes. It was hard enough that I was leaving without verbally saying a final goodbye to everyone, but I simply felt too overwhelmed to do it.

I told the team lead and the coworker that my farewell card was the easiest way for me to personally say goodbye without feeling so emotionally overwhelmed by stimuli. This particular team lead understood. In fact, this team lead knew I was highly sensitive to stimuli and would often make sure I had chances to work alone without others around me … just long enough for me to have time to myself. I don’t know that this team lead understood Asperger’s Syndrome or levels of autism or that he knew anything about introversion, but he was respectful of my need to be in solitude, and I am forever grateful for that.

This team lead was so shocked that he did a double take, but when I explained that it was simply time for me to move on to other opportunities, he shook his head and said, “I understand, and I wish you the best.” Although the one coworker that overheard was also shocked, she also agreed that moving to other opportunities was also best for me. In that moment, I felt affirmed in knowing that I was going to be okay without that toxic workplace, but I also realized that the people who wanted to stay there, wanted to stay there. I simply could not, and that’s okay.

In the final moments, I took off my badge, took off my uniform jacket, and gave up my assigned equipment. I turned everything in, and as I did, I felt an enormous weight lift from my entire body. I was no longer carrying what felt somewhat like baggage which kept me chained to that toxic work environment. Although I did like some aspects of the job and the tasks that I did, it all became too much under the weight of all the toxicity. It was great to feel lighter, and once I turned all of the stuff over to the team lead, I realized how much easier it was to actually walk away and never return back.

Upon leaving, I didn’t make an official announcement to anyone else. I just said my goodbyes to the team lead and coworker that heard me, and then I turned to walk away. There might have been others to overhear the conversation, but I didn’t look around. I didn’t want to meet the eyes of others and feel even more grief. I just wanted to walk away and not look back.

As I walked away, I saw the Queen B of the mobsters herself, Damsel in Distress. There was a strange look on her face – one that seemed to intuitively know of ‘finality’. She saw my equipment, badge, and jacket on top of the stand but remained silent. Yet, her body language seemed to demand answers. So she spouted out with feigned concern. “Is everything okay? Are you going somewhere?” She seemed to look off into the distance at the items I’d left behind. I said, “I’m going home. Maybe I’ll see you around.” Still puzzled, Damsel even seemed a little befuddled as she attempted to grip the items in her own hand.

Damsel’s eyes searched into mine, and then she said, “Everyone’s leaving me. Everyone’s moving onto better things and leaving me behind. But maybe I’ll get out of here at some point.” She obviously knew based on my turn in of supplies, and she may have even overheard my conversation with the team lead and other coworker. I wasn’t particularly sure, as I didn’t attempt to talk loud enough to cause a scene. Nevertheless, she seemed to be searching for more words and more of what to say, but I could tell she was bothered and maybe even upset.

Oddly, I felt a twinge of sadness. Then the thought occurred on what could have been had Damsel been a lot nicer, a lot less nosier, and a lot less wanting to get rid of me. Yet, she’d missed that moment with me because she was trying to always compete against me, one up me, and devalue me. She didn’t recognize my value, and she clearly didn’t recognize it in my final moments with her either. Instead, she focused on how my leaving affected her as she clumped me into a category with everyone else who’d left to move on to other things.

It still seemed as if Damsel was measuring her life against mine and everyone else’s who’d decided to move on from that toxic workplace. If she could have only realized then that perhaps people move on from that place because of having to deal with people like herself, but then again, maybe she already knows that since she said everyone’s always leaving her. Even still, she could leave herself. Many times she’d talk about the toxicity within the workplace too, but she’d only talk about leaving as she vented her frustrations. Although I understood this and could relate, it was a walk she needed to take for herself. No one could do it for her.

Needless to say, I took my final walk out of the door as an employee within that toxic workplace, and that walk to my car never felt so good. The drive out of the parking lot away from the toxicity felt even better. I knew I would never go back even though I’d given a two week notice as a way to stay on good terms. I’d spent one and half years in that place, and some things – like the best of my health from injuries I incurred while there like major hip and back pain – I can never get back.

However, I am glad to have discovered that I’m much stronger than I thought and much wiser too, but I still have a very long way to go. I could have done some things a lot differently when I look back over my time there. I could have stood an even stronger ground against some of the toxic foes that came against me. I could have been more of an advocate for myself in terms of the things I personally experienced as devaluation – insults and slights from others. Yet, if I had to do it all over again … let’s just say, I’m glad there are no do overs. I hardly ever want to go back. It was a final walk away from a chapter I never want to repeat again.