I've posted about my last workplace here before, but I was reminded of something that happened while reading another post earlier this week. Apologies in advance if it's too long or doesn't belong here. I had to share somewhere I figured people would appreciate my experience in a toxic workplace. For anyone who needs the warning, this involves 🩸 and ️.
I'm not going to sugarcoat it, I was once a much different person. I used to mock the concept of being “triggered”. Thankfully, I learned quite a bit more about what it truly meant to have a triggering experience and what a trigger really was. Then I realized that I myself had been triggered before and I became much more compassionate and empathetic toward others than I had ever been. I'm not proud of this, but I'm sharing to help introduce the difficulty experience I'm about to recount.
Nearly two years ago, about a year before I left my last job, I was a warehouse guy, which often meant running a forklift to fetch heavy equipment for the installers. One such guy was a man who I'll call Matt. Matt had been diagnosed with a mild cancer, for which he was undergoing chemo, but was still permitted to work by his doctors. Dude was tough.
His single task for the day was to drive out to a customer's business and set some metal cabinets (think the ones under the counter in a bank). My responsibility was to run the forklift the the small auxiliary warehouse, bring them over, and help load them in his truck. As I'm backing out the overhead door with them, I check over my shoulder, and see Mark, sprawled out on the concrete.
My first instinct was to safely stop, drop my load, and go check on him. Which I did. To hell with those cabinets. Matt's breathing is shallow, and others had gathered in the short moment it took me to stop and get there. One guy was on the phone with 911. Another was talking to him, trying to keep him conscious. No one knew how this happened and the only external camera trained on that spot apparently caught nothing.
When I got the word that the ambulance was close by, I ran to meet it and point them in the right direction. I never run. I've got a bum knee. Sometimes it hurts to walk, and I've put on more than a few pounds as a result. But this was a friend's life hanging in the balance. Pain be damned. The paramedics were already looking Matt over when I got back to his side.
He was still struggling to stay awake. Blood was running out of his ear. We could tell he'd struck his head, but again, no idea how. He responded best to my voice in those moments, so I spoke to him to keep his attention. We had to almost hold him down, because he tried to stand more than once. The man was beating cancer, he wasn't going to give in to whatever this was. The crew got a brace on his neck, put him on a back board, loaded him into the ambulance, and they were off.
Matt was on life support for three days before they determined he was effectively brain-dead. His family made the hard decision to pull the plug, and he was gone. The announcement came via company email when the funeral service would be, and of course, it was during a workday and only a few select people were permitted to take off to attend. I was not one of those people.
I never got to say goodbye, but the owner of the company who spends most of his time either in a vacation home a few states away or managing numerous rental properties as a side hustle? He made an appearance. Other members of the C-suite were there. But me? Nah. There was work to be done. Business as usual. I was then also tasked with opening up the hazmat kit and cleaning his blood from the concrete. Whenever I “had some time”.
I was then asked to provide a statement to an OSHA rep via phone who, as I had been warned, attempted to lead me to make assumptions as to how Matt ended up the way he did. This OSHA rep did not appreciate that I would not speculate, or that I called him out on his leading questions. I asked leadership for a few moments after the call to get some air, and I was told “that's what breaks are for”.
I was so angry after that, I wanted to spit in the faces of every member of upper management, the owner included. I didn't know how to process what had happened, and there was no one at work I felt I could talk to without being told to “man up and move on”. My wife was empathetic, having lost a few coworkers in her time, but never the way that Matt went.
Fast forward to my new job, where the human element is recognized significantly more than any place I've ever worked. I'd been there just a couple of months, and a coworker who I'll call Calvin at the desk next to mine begins to seize. Violently. I don't remember what I did, but whatever it was, it was captured on the camera in the corner of our office. All I remember is that I kept thinking, “I barely know this guy, but I'm not gonna lose him like I lost Matt. Not if I can help it”.
I was told I jumped into action, doing my best to keep Calvin still and from harming himself. After he was off on the ambulance and the adrenaline started to wear off, I took a moment to myself out in the hallway. I did not ask. A teammate who I'll call Ann, came out to check on me. Ann was a combat Marine, wounded in action. She's seen some things. She took a few minutes to talk me down so that I could stop shaking, which I hadn't realized I was doing.
I received praise from the rest of my team, my manager, managers in other departments, and from members of the C-suite whom I'd not yet met. It was nice, but I didn't do it for praise. I did it because my body and brain reacted to a situation I'd had the misfortune to experience before. Calvin and I are now thick as thieves and I couldn't imagine my workday without him.
People say it's a rush, and they're right. However, I'll be just fine if I never have to experience it again. If you've read this all the way through, I thank you.