Kingdoms are built on the broken backs of others. I don’t want to generalize, but think about it. All those big companies building their wealth on the backs of child labor and underpaid workers often without any consideration for their wellbeing. I experienced the dark side of working for a boss early on.
I was 24 when one of my previous employers, whom I regarded as a friend, ran into trouble with one of his businesses. An employee had stolen from the business, leaving it in chaos. The manager, a friend of my mother-in-law, mentioned the situation to her. When I heard about it, I offered to help. I agreed to work in the store for three months, as a favor, until they could find a suitable replacement. During this time, I planned to take inventory and computerize the store so they’d have better control over stock and sales.
I had a mission and only three months to complete it - I needed to get back to my own web development company. I operated the store alone while the manager tended to another store and my days were packed with stocktaking and cataloging items on a POS system. When customers came in, I dropped everything to assist them.
A few weeks in, my life became miserable. The owner of a neighboring store started spying on me and spreading lies. Soon, I was being reprimanded constantly - for being late, taking too many bathroom breaks, or failing to help customers. After a few weeks, I was so tired by noon that I could barely keep my eyes open. At first, I thought it was the stress. Then I found out I was pregnant.
I was thrilled and even more determined to complete my mission. But just a week later, complications arose. Our GP prescribed two weeks of bed rest. I submitted my sick note to the manager and went straight to bed. That same night, I was admitted to the hospital and, tragically, had a miscarriage. I was devastated.
That Monday, still on medical leave, Paul - afraid to leave me alone - took me to my parents’ house, where I spent most of my time sleeping. Later, my mother woke me up to say the manager had called. They wanted me at work immediately - my employer needed to speak to me. Reluctantly, I went in.
When I arrived, my employer called and yelled at me. He told me that his wife had had miscarriages, and it “wasn’t that big of a deal.” He demanded I return to work. If I couldn’t, I should arrange for my father-in-law - who had his own job - to stand in for me.
When the call ended, I lost it. I blacked out from rage. I know I screamed, stormed out, and knocked over several displays on my way out. Outside, I crossed the road without looking and nearly got hit by a car. I ran straight into Paul’s office across the street and broke down completely.
Paul’s employer gave him emergency leave. He took me to our GP, who told him to take away my phone so I couldn’t be reached. The doctor also advised getting me out of Mossel Bay to recover physically and emotionally.
My parents sponsored a two-week recovery trip to Knysna. We booked into the train lodge and spent our days exploring on foot. I discovered the library and spent hours curled up on a couch, reading Clive Cussler novels. Today, my bookshelf is stacked with them.
During those two weeks, something changed within me. I became a fighter. When we returned, I was determined to seek justice - not just for how I’d been treated but also for the insult of not being paid. I reported my employer to the Department of Labour. He claimed I’d deserted the job, but when the sick note surfaced - a detail the manager had failed to mention - he had no case. He was ordered to pay me.
From that moment on, I decided I would never work for a boss again. I would never let anyone build their kingdom on my broken back.
I refuse to be a victim. I create my own opportunities.