I’ve been dealing with mental health issues since I was little, unfortunately I’ve had no therapy to deal with them. Since covid, my mental health has nosedived and I’m unable to function at work. (It’s strongly suspected I also have ADD.) I come home crying regularly. I try and stretch my breaks to get more precious minutes of sanity and silence. I fear constant remarks on how I’m not pulling my weight. I come to work depressed, and leave sore and exhausted- but of course no one cares as long as you make them their money.
Well yesterday was the final straw for me, apparently. The assistant manager pulled camera evidence of me leaving my workstation and not returning for 20 minutes, and gifted me three write ups for time theft and breach of trust for denying I was in the breakroom, where they thought I had gone. They laughed as they read the write ups, as if they couldn’t believe I was so stupid as to make a bull faced lie denying it and get caught anyway.
It turns out that I was using the washroom, and my denial was accurate. The day in question, I had a stomach issue. They have no evidence of me even being in the breakroom, but unfortunately there’s no camera there to prove it.
I could get fired today, and have all three write ups permanently on my record. I’ve been unable to keep my composure, I’m humiliated and ashamed of myself. When I tried to tell my end of the story, I was shut down and labelled a liar. Everyone who knows about the incident tells me I should get the union to fight it as long as I can. I feel like a failure. As if I’m simply a lazy lump who can’t “pull up their bootstraps”, despite most of the problems stemming from the way my brain is wired- something I have little control over.
I desperately wish I didn’t have to work in this environment. Any day I’m not busy feels like a day wasted. This isn’t what I want out of my life- I don’t want to feel like I have no reason to keep going. I don’t want to be emotionally and physically exhausted. I want to have meaningful work, something I can contribute to my community and be able to thrive on, not trying to stretch my measly break because I’m unable to sit down. My parents tell me all workplaces are like this, and I just want to combust. I have to spend my life this miserable?
I don’t know what this will do for my future employment prospects, and quite frankly, I’m terrified. My family has assured me that I’m a good person, that this doesn’t define me. But it sure feels like it does when you can’t even hold down a minimum wage job.