The Harrowing Ride to Post-Employment
MARCH 25, 2O25 — As of 8:57 a.m., I am officially out of the most toxic job I’ve ever had. Eighteen months ago, I was hired as the Marketing Project Manager in the seven-person marketing department of a restaurant group that has more than 1O concepts. In the three months since they fired the last remaining Marketing colleague five days before Christmas, I’d been negotiating with them for my new solo role. After many evasive weeks, they shut down my request for more money with passive-aggressive "head-scratching” that my job duties hadn’t changed a bit. Crazy making. Try telling that to my jaw, which has been clenched so tight for so long that I spent more than three grand on a corrective dental appliance, which did not work.
Three weeks ago, I saw a LinkedIn post for what could only be described as my job under a new title and a pay range that reached well past what I was asking for. I’ve been preparing to be fired. Last week, the owner turned an officious email I wrote into a performance issue he threatened to write me up for: My tone in a guest email wasn’t “warm and welcoming” enough. He said he’d take over with the guest. When I replied “gotcha” and gave some context for my business-like focus, he was enraged. He talked about how unprofessional I was, how I didn’t value my job, how I clearly wanted out. Owner prefers to make people quit, often boasting about winning every battle over unemployment. He was creating cause to fire me; I hadn’t had even casual negative feedback in my tenure, let alone an actual performance review ever. The gaslight was blazing.
I pushed back and suggested it wasn’t real cause, then laid out their history of passive-aggressive head-scratching and silence instead of feedback. Owner admitted they hired someone new and said it was time for me to seek employment elsewhere. He flattered that I’d always been “nice and dependable,” if I cooperated with a smooth transition, I could tell people I was laid off due to marketing efforts being outsourced, which was a smidge true.
Side note: After what feels like a lifetime of emotional abuse, I am hypervigilant. Word choices and sentence structure activate my spidey senses. Tiresome, but sometimes helpful. I knew I was being manipulated.
Anyway, they offered me two weeks’ severance, and I was mostly on board. It seemed like the easiest way to get out, with a cushion and the ability to get unemployment. But I was worried, they were not to be trusted. The offer was contingent on a closing meeting to ensure I’d jumped through all their hoops gracefully. They were taking a lot of extra steps to make me play nice. I wondered if Owner was making these moves to hide that they were hiring someone younger for more money (did someone say age discrimination?). I had a free consultation with an employment lawyer who gave me signs to watch for and ways to protect myself. Above all, I knew had protections from the Age Discrimination in Employment Act, including 21 days to review any legal agreement.
Last Friday, they emailed the formal severance offer, chock-full of rights’ releases and legal phrasings, so I took the weekend to review. I noticed there was no mention of the ADEA nor the fact that they wanted me out in a week — no written allowance for the legal mandate of a 21-day review. First thing Monday, I asked them to add that language in, clarifying that I was waiving the mandated 21 days, and then argued for a little more pay since I was fast-tracking it. Ironically, the addition would help protect them, as the ADEA omission might nullify the agreement later. They refused any changes. This offer was take it or leave it.
“What happens if I leave it?” I wrote.
“We’ll survive if you leave it, don’t worry about us,” replied the baby-faced Chief Financial Officer who was handling the written agreement.
“I meant what happens to me?” I didn’t add you asshole.
[The greatest pleasure I got out of our back and forth was that the CFO was doing it from Disney World. I pictured him in unsupportive flip flops, khaki shorts and a sweaty polo, breathless in line with his fidgeting kids, snaking around yet another stanchion on the way to yet another ride that will be over in a tiny fraction of the time they waited for it, his wife rolling her eyes at how he’s always glued to his phone, while he frantically types emails to me with his doughy fingers, hoping he has enough of a grasp of the legal language to protect his employer. A Magical Day for everyone.]
He confirmed I’d get nothing; I could be done that day if that’s what I chose.
I went quiet the rest of Monday, trying to decide what to do. I felt like agreeing to their terms would be trading my self-respect for two weeks of pay. I struggled with what to do. In my efforts to heal over the past four years, I’ve been trying very hard to honor my boundaries, heed my own values and needs, and live with authenticity. Signing the agreement felt like letting the manipulative bullies win, but I couldn’t sneeze at a couple thousand dollars with no job prospects on the horizon.
Monday night at 8:3O pm, while I was mulling and imagining and trying to listen to my gut, I got an email from Owner: If I didn’t respond to the offer by 9 am the next morning he’d consider Monday my last day and I’d get nothing. In fact, he’d no longer agree that my dismissal was a layoff, but rather my “unprofessional" email would be considered a willful violation of company policy. So really nothing: he was threatening my unemployment claim.
The punchline for me was that the last paragraph of the offer attests, “I enter this agreement freely, willfully, and without coercion.”
I was fully activated now. Decision made, thanks for making it easy, bro. I emailed the consulting lawyer that night saying I wanted to hire her and explained the after-hours deadline (illegal with a mandated 21-day review) and the threat to my unemployment claim (illegal Retaliation).
Tuesday morning, I hoped to hear back from the lawyer before 9, but wrote a badass email in the meantime. I agreed that the day prior would be my last day as I couldn’t sign the agreement freely and without coercion (I didn’t add you asshole). I laid out all the ducks in a row: here’s the pay and PTO you owe me, here’s all my passwords and where you can find the training document I was preparing for my replacement, I’ll drop off the camera and computer today, just tell me where. Without formal engagement with the lawyer, I didn’t want to bring her up, but I dropped enough hints to reveal my activation about my rights and their illegal moves. I sent the email at 8:57 am.
An hour later, my Google work account was gone. I spent the rest of the morning texting with the shocked (but knowing) colleagues, dropped the computer and camera off, then came home to nap off the jangly nerves. I paid the lawyer's retainer so she could review his threats; I expect we'll circle back to my 25-year-old replacement, whose possibly higher salary would equal age discrimination.
Now I have to figure out what the hell comes next. I am ever mindful of protecting my peace and not wanting to choose the next thing out of fear or misplaced priorities. I’m considering pulling from savings to have time to write the marriage book I’ve been too scared to start. I also need to rest and recover from this ride, got me some whiplash.
