There comes a point in every working woman’s life when the carefully constructed professional persona finally cracks. You know the one: the polite nod, the neutral facial expression, and the carefully rehearsed “Thanks for raising that” when what you’re actually thinking is, “Are you actually having a laugh?”
Well, this week, mine left the building. Well my flat.
I lost my shit on a Teams call. Not spectacularly. There was no throwing of office furniture, no dramatic resignation letter typed in Comic Sans, and thankfully no laptop launched through a window. But I did something potentially far more dangerous.
I told a manager what I actually thought.
For years, I’ve perfected the corporate art of saying things like, “I appreciate the perspective.” Which, translated into my language, can mean, “That is possibly the most bullshit thing I’ve heard today.”
But the filter slipped. Actually, forget slipped. I launched it into the English Channel.
And once you’ve finally said the thing you’ve been thinking for months, there’s really no going back.
I sat there on Teams thinking, Well, this is it. This is probably going in my file.
Then came the sentence that pretty much summed up my current enthusiasm for employment:
“I’d rather be made redundant.”
There. I’d said it. Out loud. On Teams. To a manager.
Like some sort of revolutionary who had finally discovered the power of Microsoft Office.
And the funny thing is… I meant it. I mean it.
Not because I don’t want to work. I actually quite like working. I like having money. I like electricity. I enjoy the occasional food item.
The problem is that there’s a very big difference between wanting to work and wanting to spend your days feeling stressed, frustrated and increasingly convinced that your job is slowly sucking the life out of you.
At some point, you start thinking, Would I rather be here… or unemployed?
And when unemployment starts looking like the relaxing option, you know the workplace situation has gone slightly sideways. I’m feeling sick. My body is feeling that stress in huge ways.
I’ve reached the stage where redundancy sounds less like a disaster and more like someone handing me a suitcase and saying, “Come on. We’re getting you out of here.”
Of course, I can’t actually afford to be made redundant.
Which does make my declaration slightly problematic.
It’s very easy to sit there and announce, “I DON’T CARE. MAKE ME REDUNDANT!” when you’re imagining the freedom. It’s considerably less thrilling when you remember the rent, bills, food shopping and the fact that apparently the electricity company isn’t prepared to accept “Ill sell on TikTok as payment.
So here I am, potentially having career-ending conversations while simultaneously checking my bank account like, “Please don’t let me have principles I can’t afford.”
Still, there was something strangely liberating about finally saying what I thought.
Because sometimes you spend so much time trying to be professional, reasonable, diplomatic and a team player that you forget you’re actually a human being.
And humans occasionally reach their limit.
Mine apparently reached its limit during a Microsoft Teams meeting.
Of all places.
Not even a pub. Not even a dramatic face-to-face confrontation.
Microsoft Teams.
Honestly, if you’re going to lose your professional filter, at least have the decency to do it somewhere with decent lighting.
So yes, I told a manager my honest thoughts. And yes, I said I’d rather be made redundant.
I haven’t resigned. I haven’t been made redundant. I haven’t thrown my laptop out of the window.
Yet.
Monday I’ll probably log into Teams again, make a cup of tea and attempt to behave like a functioning adult.
Because that’s adulthood, apparently.
You spend one day contemplating walking away from everything and the next morning you’re sitting at your desk typing:
“Good morning, hope you’re well.”
Meanwhile, internally:
“Absolutely fucking not.”
Perhaps the real lesson is that boundaries are important. Mental health is important. Being treated with respect is important. And sometimes saying what you really think is the moment you realise just how unhappy you’ve become.
I haven’t resigned. I haven’t walked away. But I have finally admitted something to myself.
I’d rather have less money and more peace than spend another year feeling like work is slowly driving me insane.
And if that’s the beginning of the end of this particular chapter…
Well.
Maybe it’s time to start writing the next one.
