I used to think that quitting your job without the next one lined up was something that other people did. People with money, or savings, or rich parents to back them up; not people deep in their overdraft with their savings drained.
I have grown up surrounded by people who did jobs they hated for decades because there was no other option for paying the bills. No matter how awful the job was, no matter how terrible it made you feel, it had to be better than no job at all.
When I graduated university, I had a part-time job at a student supplies shop. It was three days a week, which I thought would be perfect to launch a freelance career alongside. I had two whole days to write and the hours meant I finished fairly early on the days that I did work.
The job itself was fine, it was a standard retail job – perhaps even better – as I never had to work weekends. In fact, due to it being attached to a university, I was probably the best paid retail worker in the city – paid above the living wage, with full sick pay and holiday pay, unheard of in retail. Certainly something I haven’t experienced.
It was a slow-burning toxic environment, with negativity and antagonistic behaviour becoming a fact of life. Looking back, I realise I dissociated during working hours. I became someone who didn’t have any personal needs, and worked on autopilot in order to get through the day. I would wake up every day and drag myself into work, never stopping to think what this was doing to my health. I was using so much energy just to get through the day, that I had no energy to write on my days off. I would just decompress and start to become a functional person again until Monday came around, then the cycle would start again.
During the first lockdown, the shop closed and I was furloughed. It was just about the right time, as I was at breaking point and I’m not sure how long I would have lasted. The whole time, I desperately tried to find another job; any job, but nothing came to fruition.
I returned to work in September. A colleague – who had caused most of the issues before – arrived back from being on leave. They were clearly not coping well with the stress of the pandemic, telling us we were going to die because it was so unsafe, despite following all guidelines. Nothing was done about this behaviour, no help was offered to them, and even if it had been, it would have been rejected. After three days of this person incessantly telling us everything that could and would go wrong, how there was no hope left, my manager broke and walked out after only an hour at work.
The thought of being alone with my colleague led to me having a full-blown panic attack, hysterically sobbing in the shop. Nobody came to check if I was okay. I got told to stop ‘hiding’ as I tried to collect myself, and was largely ignored otherwise. Eventually, I just went home.
I would like to say I never went back, but it is not easy to leave a job with no backup plan, even if you have experienced trauma.
The precariousness of the current job market means that employees are so grateful for basic rights (like sick pay and decent wages) that sometimes we ignore toxic environments and relationships because we feel we should be grateful for being ‘looked after’. In reality, these should be basic requirements for employing someone.
It took a lot of affirmation from family, friends and a counsellor that this was the right thing to do. That protecting my health was more important than money, even if it meant I wouldn’t have any. Sometimes, the only thing you can do in life is walk away, to protect your health – both mental and physical.
People shouldn’t be afraid to leave jobs that are hurting them because of fear of homelessness. And that’s what this job did. It hurt me, and I kept going back, kept getting hurt over and over again, as I thought there was no other option. It wasn’t just the emotional impact; my body ached, I was exhausted all the time, sometimes getting through the next hour simply seemed impossible.
I still haven’t found another job, but I am writing again. Despite the financial uncertainty the future holds, I still believe I made the right decision. I think if I had stayed, the mental toll would have felt impossible to come back from – it was starting to have a knock-on effect on other areas of my life. Ultimately, I chose myself over a wage. I don’t think that can ever be the wrong decision.
