Comment on The joy of quitting a shit job with an asshole boss

Bamboodpanda@lemmy.world ⁨3⁩ ⁨weeks⁩ ago

I’ve spent the last year trying to make it work with one of my guys.

At first, I told him the rest of the team was having trouble connecting with him. He would wander off without telling anyone where he was going or what he was doing, which gave the impression that he wasn’t working. I explained that optics matter, because we’re all in this together. If we can’t count on each other, it makes it harder for everyone. He appreciated that conversation, but things didn’t improve.

He continued to show up late or call in sick, often on days when he knew we’d be busiest. I talked to him again about reliability—how it’s the most basic form of respect. Not just for your workplace, but for yourself. When you say you’re going to do something or be somewhere, it’s vital that your word means something. If you can’t be counted on, how can anyone rely on you?

I didn’t just tell him this. I lived it. I showed him with kindness and consistency how important those basic values are.

Last week was the busiest week our team has ever faced. It was also one of the most critical in terms of proving what we could do together. I prepped the team ahead of time and told them how proud I was to step up to the challenge with them.

On the first of the two most important days, he was late. The first 15 minutes were the most crucial of the entire day, and he missed half of them. I wasn’t angry. I handled it myself. But when he arrived, I told him how stressful that time was for me, and I reminded him again how important these two days were. He said he understood. He said he was sorry.

The next morning, I was 15 minutes into busting my ass alone. I texted him: Where are you? Nothing. Radio silence. No reply that day. Not a single call or message.

The next day, he told me he was sick and had a doctor’s note. The note was timestamped 3:45 p.m., and it said he was cleared to return to work that day.

I just stared at it for a moment. I didn’t get angry. I didn’t yell. I just said, “Okay,” and continued working. We worked in silence for most of the day.

Later, he said casually, “I heard you were upset yesterday morning.”

I replied calmly, “I was. Yes. It was stressful.”

He shrugged and said, “Sorry about that.”

I didn’t respond. I just kept working. Then, just before I left, I turned to him and said this in a calm but measured tone:

“Let me clarify something. Yesterday, I was upset because it was stressful. I’m not upset today. I’m disappointed today. I wanted to be able to say to the rest of the team that I could rely on you when it mattered most. But I can’t say that. I can’t defend you to the team when they feel like you leave them to figure it out on their own, because you left me when I told you I needed you the most. I’m not upset. I’m deeply disappointed.”

He tried to defend himself with the doctor’s note, but I raised my hand to stop him. He waited for me to say something else, but I didn’t. I let the silence speak, then walked out.

I’m sharing this because I saw this meme and it made me feel sad and reflect. I know it may be counter to the fun of the meme, but I thought the point was worth sharing.

Sometimes, jobs are crappy. Sometimes you work for people who don’t care but still expect you to. In those cases, I understand the temptation to stop caring or to burn bridges that don’t seem worth crossing.

But here’s my advice:

Respect—not because others have earned it, but because you are worth giving it to.

Hold yourself to a higher standard, not for them, but for you. Elevate yourself because it’s worth doing. Be better to yourself.

And when others who also respect themselves find you, they’ll recognize that quality in you. That’s when you find people worth teaming up with. That’s how you build something greater, something that’s not just productive, but meaningful and fun.

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