how I got moled from my company my own job

"how I got moled from my company my own job"

I knew early on the truth that the company wanted to mole me.

Before I was pregnant, my boss hinted that I would switch to part-time. Now that I am back from my 14-week maternity leave, although the seat is still there, the papers on the desk are piled up.

The owner, Ken, asked me to come into the room, smiling hypocritically:

"Ashan, you just came back, maybe you have not been able to adapt/you had not adapted yet. Recently, the company restructured its structure. The previous colleague left, and you took over his customers. Also, the Proposal of that new Project, you will have to complete the work and give the work to me tonight."

I know it well. Here is the workload of three people, and yet to Proposal tonight, is clearly an "impossible task".

These are typical “forcing you out on the grounds of incompetence.”

Me: "Boss, these cases are urgent, but I am  still breastfeeding and I have to pump regularly at night, maybe..."

The boss interrupted me, knocking on the table:

"Ashan, everyone is working, the company is not a charity. Since you can come back, you have to keep up with the rhythm. If you can not even do it well, I can not explain it to the Client. You know the consequences yourself."

His eyes were cold, a cold that eats hard at you.

I know labor laws.

I know these are “unreasonable work arrangements”.

I know these are “dismissals in disguise.”

I even know that I can go to the Labor Department to report, or fight to the end, finish work on time every day, and wait for him to fire me and get compensation.

but.

Back in my seat, I looked at the dense schedule on my computer Monitor.

On the left is an unanswered customer email, on the right is a video from the house worker's sister - the daughter is crying and can not stop trying to please.

Phone vibrates, mortgage deduction notice arrived.

If I challenge him hard, drag him for three to five or seven months, struggling in negative energy every day, letting his boss wear straw sandals and letting his colleagues watch jokes. Even if I ended up winning back those tens of thousands of dollars in compensation, my resume was spent, my milk shrank, and I personally had a mental breakdown.

I looked at the picture of my daughter on the corner of the table and suddenly felt tired.

That tiredness, not the physical kind, is that "it turns out I can not even be able to get away" feeling of powerlessness.

I opened a Word and did not write a Proposal.

I wrote a letter of resignation.

It is not forced, it is “personal reasons.”

At 6pm, I drove the letter into the boss’s room.

Me: "Boss, I want to be clear. I really can not be able to handle these jobs. I do not want to end up affecting the company's operations, so... I quit."

The boss was stunned, probably not thinking I "surrendered" so quickly, or even without him paying notice in lieu of notice. The fake smile on his face immediately turned thin:

"Um, you can think for yourself. That's convenient for everyone. I will help you out. I do not forget you are absent from work. You can leave today."

I nodded and placed the letter on the table.

When I walked out of the office, it was not dark yet.

The wind blew by, and I felt a wet chill in my heart—milk leaked out again. I hurriedly looked for a place to change my pads on the side of the road, and I was like a drowned dog.

I won reason, but I lost life.

In this city, as a mother who carries a mortgage and has to support her children, sometimes "quitting" is even the most cost-saving way to stop loss.

I looked at the cars on the street and tears finally came down.

It turns out that you have lost a battle before you fight, because you carry much more than face.