Stumbling in Flats

After waiting a whole morning, the memory stick is shoved through my letter box in a plain envelope. The boss knew I was in but couldn’t be bothered/wasn’t polite enough to knock the door and have a civil conversation. No acknowledgement of my letter, of dropping my ID card off, clearing my stuff from the office. No ‘hey, thanks for working for us for two years’.

I can quite honestly say that I have never, ever been treated so shabbily in my whole life. Being sacked for having multiple sclerosis is bad enough without all this game-playing on top of it. At least I have been polite, left without a squeak, but in my own way I have kicked ass. I defended myself in the boardroom when I was unexpectedly sacked on Monday, when the two bosses had so obviously been planning it for weeks.

I specifically told them I should have representation but was turned down. I negotiated two months grace. I calmly collected my belongings. I kept in touch and was blanked.

This has been a humdinger of a week. I am an emotional wreck, high on coffee and stress. After a year of bullying, they got me out. I am angry, sad, grieving, furious, melancholic, all in equal measure. I need to calm down, think rationally and create a new plan. I am struggling not to take it personally. How can I not?

Maybe the writing was on the wall when I spent a week in hospital for MS treatment over the summer, and was on sick leave for three weeks (statutory sick pay, the bare minimum). Not a Get Well Card, not a phone call or visit. No communication whatsoever.

It’s the small things that hurt the most. In our little office, we buy chocolate eclairs when there is a celebration. Guess what I found in the fridge on Thursday when I was clearing out my stuff? A big box of them. Wonder what they were celebrating?

The saga continues. Yesterday, I was to go to The Office Of Doom at 9am for one last time (hopefully) to pick up my belongings, the memory stick and finalise details of my employment and dismissal. I’m all psyched up but I have no idea what I am going to face.

I arrive early and call on the off-chance I can get this over with. No reply. Ten minutes later, one of the bosses hurtles out the door, so I go over to see what’s happening. Barely casting a glance in my direction, he shouts over his shoulder that he will call me later, he has to leave. Nice.

I go home. Do I still have my job for two months? What’s going on? My mum comes over for coffee. We go over every possible scenario. At half ten, I call the office. I need to get this over and done with.

The office junior picks up. I ask if I can come in. Of course I can. She sounds bemused. Everyone loves a drama. Coward that I am, I take my mum. We go armed with two bags and an attitude. The office junior is alone in the office. Apparently the boss has gone out to buy a memory stick.

I pack all my things, and while my mum makes the junior a cup of tea (!), I divert my emails, scribble a quick letter explaining I have left my ID card and could the memory stick be dropped off later. Collecting my mum from the kitchen where she is washing up and bleaching the sink, we leave, balancing a plant and two bulging bags between us. I look back, remembering the awful times. It’s history.

But will the memory stick be dropped off? Am I still employed for two months as agreed? There’s been no phonecall, no recognition of my letter, or that I have been to collect my things. I feel humiliated and worthless. Am I really meant to be treated like this?

But no matter what happens, I have my freedom. And dignity. Which is a lot more than can be said for them.

Day three post-job, and I’m feeling great. You don’t realise how crap your life has become until the load is lifted. On Sunday I woke up dreading Monday. Another awful, nasty, bullying week in work lay ahead. A week of being snubbed, excluded, picked on and despised, just because I have multiple sclerosis.

Yesterday, I woke up and the familiar black pall of gloom descended. Until I remembered it was all over. Finito. I bounded out of bed, sang in the shower, skipped downstairs and just felt…good. This is how ‘normal’ feels.

My posture is better and I’m sure my skin is brighter. I’m not constantly wary of the next sly comment or wondering what scheme they will come up with next. I can see now that they had planned a systematic campaign to drive me from my job. First, stripping me of every single duty they could, leaving me with a job that was no longer sustainable. When that didn’t make me leave, a new campaign of exclusion, lies and snide remarks was cranked up. And still I didn’t leave. So I guess I won in the end. They were exasperated enough to sack me on very dodgy charges, in their hurry to just darn well get me out the place.

So, I’m feeling positive and optimistic. I’m looking forward to a better, brighter future. I’ve been whizzing my way through my ‘to do’ list, catching up on paperwork and generally just clearing the decks, mentally and physically.

The final hurdle will be going back to the Office of Doom today to pick up my things. I will just take a deep breath, gather my belongings, sort our some final points and look forward to that brilliant feeling I will have as I bounce down the stairs and leave. For ever.

Think I should tell them I’ve been spitting in their coffee all these months?

(Nah, I didn’t..honest)