“Roger!”my mom exclaimed.
“What?She’s been through eight jobs in four years.You don’t think she’s going to suddenly change because she’s flown to the other side of the world, do you?”
“Standing right here.”I held up my hand, but they continued to ignore me.
There’s nothing new there.I might be an only child, but my parents have bickered between themselves all my life.Often I’m the focus of their attention.Or rather, my failing.In my father’s opinion.
He’s very critical.
I know that, but still, when he judges me and makes cruel comments, it hurts.I’m never good enough.Too short.Too quiet.Too chubby.And lacking commitment and direction in life.
He’s not wrong.
I’m five foot five, curvy and not overly outspoken.I didn’t do all that well at school.Average at best.I’ve never known what I want to do.
One of my teachers said that some people peak when they’re older and not to worry.My father hit the roof when I quoted the teacher and went to the school.Since then, he’s ridden my ass and pushed me into jobs I never wanted to do.
Tomotivateme, he kicked me out of the house.
Good one.
All that did was make me take jobs I never wanted so I could pay rent and live with people I hated.
Flatting is the worst.
When I stormed out of my job two weeks ago, after a manager pinched my bottom, my father told me to—and I quote—stop being one of those snowflakes.
“Are you kidding me?That was sexual harassment, Dad.”
“Oh, come on.The problem with kids these days is they take all of this stuff way too seriously.”He chuckled over dinner.
I glanced at Mom with big round eyes absolutely mind-blown that he was okay with a creep touching me.
She just shook her head.My parents had me later in life and the generations between us are...big.
Right now, they feel enormous.
“It doesn’t work like that anymore, Dad.It’s not acceptable behavior and I will not apologize for speaking up for myself.”
He lowered his knife and fork, looking at me from across the dinner table like I was an idiot.“Come back and tell me that when you can’t pay your rent or feed yourself.”
I’d gasped.
“I’ve never asked you for money.Ever.”
He began eating again.“So far.How long do you think this employment record of yours will last?Soon, no one will employ you.”
My eyes darted to Mom again, who shrugged.“He’s not wrong, Emily.”
That night I’d returned home furious.I was not going to put up with assholes and sexual abuse in the workplace, but being so junior, the power ratio was imbalanced.Hadn’t the #MeToo movement taught anyone anything?
Clearly, my dad had missed the memo.
What was I supposed to do?My business degree wasn’t opening as many doors as I’d hoped.
Despite my grievances, I had enjoyed being in a business environment, listening during meetings, and learning.I’d picked up more in the past few years than I had the entire time at university.
On-the-job training was far more my thing.
