When I think about my last job, it sends shivers down my spine.
I become overwhelmed by feelings that make me want to crawl out of my skin.
I’m still recovering from the trauma and headaches, and I wouldn’t wish that job on my worst enemy.
It was quite lucrative. I had the opportunity to work closely with a top professional in his field. I learned a lot from the role, but lost even more in the process.
It all started two months after I settled into the hustle and bustle of the office life.
I was fresh out of school and eager for practical experience, it felt like an honor to be the chosen one out of over 50 applicants.
And so, I didn’t think much of it when the bashing started. It was all verbal, don’t worry. The kind that carried more weight than a 700-pound fist. I called it correction and feedback.
I even defended him. “He simply demands the best from his assistant.”
So, I tried. Endlessly seeking validation.
Before I even realized it, I was in too deep. The influence of my last job had sunk in, stripping me of everything that once made me the chosen one when I first stepped through the high-rise reception.
And so I left, leaving a huge part of me behind.
I became a shadow of myself.
Always second-guessing.
Hoping for no more “corrections.”
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