I almost titled this "My Passive Aggressive Idiot Boss," but that wouldn't have been polite now, would it?
I'm just now coming down from a major panic attack at work. Caused by him. In one of my other threads, I discuss the fact that work is placing me in a cubicle environment. The cubes are built --sort of --but I haven't been put into the cube farm yet due to the lack of accommodation promised. I'm due to enter it in about 3-4 weeks. No one can tell me when. No planning. Or what the eventual floor plan will look like. And that's causing me major stress.
My Manager (let's call him Oliver) and his boss, the Director (let's call the Director --Chris), know about my PTSD. Pried out of me under great duress, lemme tell you. I've kept it quiet for over 10 years of working here. And, working in an office by myself, I've managed to garner really good performance. I've made them happy. Until they wanted to move me to an environment to "increase communication" and "maximize space." An environment where they envisioned that everyone would sit in the room with their back to the center, close enough to touch your neighbor, with little to no shielding from view.
I fell apart in a really public way. And suddenly I'm not making them so happy anymore. There are other threads by me on that. This is basically just back-story so that you can get a picture of what my stresses are. (I'm finding the actual panic attack today really hard to write about. My head keeps seeing an image or two and the logic circuits are having trouble articulating the events in order.)
Oliver knows about the PTSD and an additional auditory hearing issue. I've sent him links with information from reputable sources. He knows that I'm seeing a psychiatrist and a therapist (at a $700/month price tag even with 'gold-plated' insurance). I've suspected for some time that he doesn't understand that there is any issue at all. Maybe it was the comment when I asked him if he understood what PTSD was and he waived his hand and airily said "I don't need to know anything about it. I'm not your caregiver." Maybe it's his continual callous comments that once I'm in the cubicle I'll "get used to it. Everyone does." Two days after my meeting with him to inform him of the PTSD, he made a joking comment in our staff meeting about suicides. My stomach churned and I had to excuse myself from the meeting to 'run to the bathroom.'
He does seem to get that I don't handle change well, but can't seem to grasp that it is sudden change and environmental change that appears to throw me into a threatening environment (threatening to me. I understand that everyone else can deal with it.).
I have actually forced him to listen to me twice now to talk about these issues, what makes me highly uncomfortable, what a triggering event looks like on me, and what my reactions typically are in those cases. (I'm an avoidance girl. "Funny, she seemed a little surprised and now she's just disappeared. OH, there she is under the table. Didn't see you there. Why are you shaking and crying?") He seems to have focused on the "can't handle sudden change" and warped it to "can't learn anything new."
He knows when the furniture for the rooms is ordered. He has possession of the schedule and the schematics. That's everything that I need to basically make me see and understand the coming environment and plan for how I can handle it. And yet he keeps claiming that he doesn't know the schedule, doesn't know who ordered it, doesn't know who planned it, doesn't know when it will come in or what it will look like. But that black carpet that was placed in the room displeases him because he told the guy he wanted it to match the furniture and not show stains but he didn't expect black.
When the first set of furniture arrived and was set up, I saw it by going in on my own with the finance guy who immediately popped his head over one of the 65" outer walls and said, "Hey, this is nice." None of the agreed upon changes had been implemented. I basically went into total body shaking then, followed very quickly after with full blown hysteria. I ran to get my coat and get out of the building (I thought to get my coat? Or rather didn't think. No way I could drive in that state.), and as I passed his office on the way out I screamed at him, "You <expletive> lied to me!!" and bolted. I don't remember anything after turning away from him at his doorway. 20 minutes later, I 'came to' in the machine room 1/4 mile down the hill with a disk drive box in my hand that needed to be installed in a server. To get to that point, I had to leave his office, go to my car where I'd placed the disk (intending to do it on the way home I took it to lunch), open the car, take the disk down the hill, badge into the machine room through 3 separate pin-keyed locks, walk to the back of the room, find something to open the box, and strip the disk out of the mailing box.
The fact that I did that without remembering it scares the hell out of me. After I finished the install of the disk, I just went home. Cowardly, but I still wasn't strong enough to talk about it.
The next day, I came in and immediately apologized to him. I explained about the lack of cubicle floor-plan changes despite management agreeing to the changes in lieu of formally filing the request for accommodation with HR. He accepted the apology and sounded...aggrieved. I had cursed at him, mind you. However, it doesn't seem like he truly does understand that this isn't a choice or depression. This is a sudden physical reaction to a shock or a severe stress.
Here's the quote from his email sent to me that evening. I hadn't read it before I came in and apologized.
It's the "not happy" that bothers me in the statement above. I was out of line. But it wasn't because of 'unhappiness.' What I am exhibiting is not depression at work. It's panic attacks.
He seems to think it is situational depression. While that may be a component, I truly don't feel depressed right now. Just that every once in a while something frightens me and I shake in convulsions or cry hysterically or I hide in a corner or under something. (I try to hide unobtrusively, but when a 45-year-old woman is under a desk...well...that's not unobtrusive.)
I found out two weeks ago that the promised changes to the cube environment were actually not ordered by him until that January outburst when the first furniture was installed. That's not what Chris intended, but I'm not sure that Chris knew that the order had not been placed.
Today is a perfect example of passive aggressive behavior. I was in the cube farm working on an install with two other teammates. My back was to the door. I was facing the coworker's computer screen and hyper-focused to catch what he was saying because I couldn't read his lips in that position. My other coworker was sitting to my side. No one heard Oliver enter the office. But there he was behind me and started to say something and touched me on the shoulder. I jumped a foot, went rigid in panic, then as the rigidity faded, I started hyperventilating and got to my feet pretty fast and moved around the cubicle wall and into the corner. I kept hyperventilating and was trying to stop it, so I bent over and grabbed a couch arm for support. The other coworker asked me "ARE YOU OK??!!!" I gasped out a "yeah, just give me a minute, sorry." (I think that's what I said. It's kind of missing and there like something caught in your peripheral vision in your mind.) But Oliver said in that aggrieved tone, "You've got to be kidding. I made a lot of noise coming in. You heard me." Then he stomped out angrily and didn't communicate with me after that. That was 3 hours ago. None of the others heard him come in either. There were 4 of us altogether in the room.
I shook for about 30 minutes. I have something that the doc gave me for on-the-spot stress, but I've never had to resort to it before. I finally did take one after I caught my breath and could sit to work again, though I kept shaking violently for about 10 minutes. I had sporadic bouts of convulsive shuddering through the next 20 minutes or so after I took the med. How I managed to take notes is a mystery. My hand was really gyrating and I had no fine motor control.
We all got through the install, and then I hid in my office. I am working on other stuff in the background as I type this, but I'm really not sure how I'm functioning. I think it's because the other stuff is routine and auto-pilot'ish.
Today sort of added another bit of proof that he seems to think that I'm perfectly normal and just looking for excuses not to be in the cubicle.
I've told him several times now:
1. Please don't surprise me if you can help it.
2. Sitting with my back to a room increases my edginess.
3. I don't hear well and I read lips to bolster comprehension (this wasn't common knowledge at all until very recently and even most of my work group isn't aware of it)
I don't fault him for surprising me like that and scaring me out of my wits. That could have happened from anyone. I fault him for the comment afterward that indicated that he couldn't understand why I was panicking so badly from something that he felt was innocuous.
I can't possibly talk to him today. Tomorrow I am thinking about setting up a meeting with our HR person and the Director to discuss my concerns. That may be viewed as hostile, though, and I'm hesitant. There is an OMBUDSMAN for our workplace, and I think that maybe I *should* talk to them. That's not in the chain-of-command, and it's not threatening.
Should I also say that I like my job and I like my coworkers? I think I've got a masochistic side because I have stayed in a field that has shown that more than 50% of the personnel in this line of work jump out every decade the cohort moves forward. So, after 20 years, about 55-60% of the original group are gone into other fields. One of my favorite coworkers quit without a job to go to after 20 years in our field and became a mortician. She said that dead people were less stressful.
Or maybe I just fear change and the known stresses of the work feed my need for internal pressure.
I'm just now coming down from a major panic attack at work. Caused by him. In one of my other threads, I discuss the fact that work is placing me in a cubicle environment. The cubes are built --sort of --but I haven't been put into the cube farm yet due to the lack of accommodation promised. I'm due to enter it in about 3-4 weeks. No one can tell me when. No planning. Or what the eventual floor plan will look like. And that's causing me major stress.
My Manager (let's call him Oliver) and his boss, the Director (let's call the Director --Chris), know about my PTSD. Pried out of me under great duress, lemme tell you. I've kept it quiet for over 10 years of working here. And, working in an office by myself, I've managed to garner really good performance. I've made them happy. Until they wanted to move me to an environment to "increase communication" and "maximize space." An environment where they envisioned that everyone would sit in the room with their back to the center, close enough to touch your neighbor, with little to no shielding from view.
I fell apart in a really public way. And suddenly I'm not making them so happy anymore. There are other threads by me on that. This is basically just back-story so that you can get a picture of what my stresses are. (I'm finding the actual panic attack today really hard to write about. My head keeps seeing an image or two and the logic circuits are having trouble articulating the events in order.)
Oliver knows about the PTSD and an additional auditory hearing issue. I've sent him links with information from reputable sources. He knows that I'm seeing a psychiatrist and a therapist (at a $700/month price tag even with 'gold-plated' insurance). I've suspected for some time that he doesn't understand that there is any issue at all. Maybe it was the comment when I asked him if he understood what PTSD was and he waived his hand and airily said "I don't need to know anything about it. I'm not your caregiver." Maybe it's his continual callous comments that once I'm in the cubicle I'll "get used to it. Everyone does." Two days after my meeting with him to inform him of the PTSD, he made a joking comment in our staff meeting about suicides. My stomach churned and I had to excuse myself from the meeting to 'run to the bathroom.'
He does seem to get that I don't handle change well, but can't seem to grasp that it is sudden change and environmental change that appears to throw me into a threatening environment (threatening to me. I understand that everyone else can deal with it.).
I have actually forced him to listen to me twice now to talk about these issues, what makes me highly uncomfortable, what a triggering event looks like on me, and what my reactions typically are in those cases. (I'm an avoidance girl. "Funny, she seemed a little surprised and now she's just disappeared. OH, there she is under the table. Didn't see you there. Why are you shaking and crying?") He seems to have focused on the "can't handle sudden change" and warped it to "can't learn anything new."
He knows when the furniture for the rooms is ordered. He has possession of the schedule and the schematics. That's everything that I need to basically make me see and understand the coming environment and plan for how I can handle it. And yet he keeps claiming that he doesn't know the schedule, doesn't know who ordered it, doesn't know who planned it, doesn't know when it will come in or what it will look like. But that black carpet that was placed in the room displeases him because he told the guy he wanted it to match the furniture and not show stains but he didn't expect black.
When the first set of furniture arrived and was set up, I saw it by going in on my own with the finance guy who immediately popped his head over one of the 65" outer walls and said, "Hey, this is nice." None of the agreed upon changes had been implemented. I basically went into total body shaking then, followed very quickly after with full blown hysteria. I ran to get my coat and get out of the building (I thought to get my coat? Or rather didn't think. No way I could drive in that state.), and as I passed his office on the way out I screamed at him, "You <expletive> lied to me!!" and bolted. I don't remember anything after turning away from him at his doorway. 20 minutes later, I 'came to' in the machine room 1/4 mile down the hill with a disk drive box in my hand that needed to be installed in a server. To get to that point, I had to leave his office, go to my car where I'd placed the disk (intending to do it on the way home I took it to lunch), open the car, take the disk down the hill, badge into the machine room through 3 separate pin-keyed locks, walk to the back of the room, find something to open the box, and strip the disk out of the mailing box.
The fact that I did that without remembering it scares the hell out of me. After I finished the install of the disk, I just went home. Cowardly, but I still wasn't strong enough to talk about it.
The next day, I came in and immediately apologized to him. I explained about the lack of cubicle floor-plan changes despite management agreeing to the changes in lieu of formally filing the request for accommodation with HR. He accepted the apology and sounded...aggrieved. I had cursed at him, mind you. However, it doesn't seem like he truly does understand that this isn't a choice or depression. This is a sudden physical reaction to a shock or a severe stress.
Here's the quote from his email sent to me that evening. I hadn't read it before I came in and apologized.
It's the "not happy" that bothers me in the statement above. I was out of line. But it wasn't because of 'unhappiness.' What I am exhibiting is not depression at work. It's panic attacks.
He seems to think it is situational depression. While that may be a component, I truly don't feel depressed right now. Just that every once in a while something frightens me and I shake in convulsions or cry hysterically or I hide in a corner or under something. (I try to hide unobtrusively, but when a 45-year-old woman is under a desk...well...that's not unobtrusive.)
I found out two weeks ago that the promised changes to the cube environment were actually not ordered by him until that January outburst when the first furniture was installed. That's not what Chris intended, but I'm not sure that Chris knew that the order had not been placed.
Today is a perfect example of passive aggressive behavior. I was in the cube farm working on an install with two other teammates. My back was to the door. I was facing the coworker's computer screen and hyper-focused to catch what he was saying because I couldn't read his lips in that position. My other coworker was sitting to my side. No one heard Oliver enter the office. But there he was behind me and started to say something and touched me on the shoulder. I jumped a foot, went rigid in panic, then as the rigidity faded, I started hyperventilating and got to my feet pretty fast and moved around the cubicle wall and into the corner. I kept hyperventilating and was trying to stop it, so I bent over and grabbed a couch arm for support. The other coworker asked me "ARE YOU OK??!!!" I gasped out a "yeah, just give me a minute, sorry." (I think that's what I said. It's kind of missing and there like something caught in your peripheral vision in your mind.) But Oliver said in that aggrieved tone, "You've got to be kidding. I made a lot of noise coming in. You heard me." Then he stomped out angrily and didn't communicate with me after that. That was 3 hours ago. None of the others heard him come in either. There were 4 of us altogether in the room.
I shook for about 30 minutes. I have something that the doc gave me for on-the-spot stress, but I've never had to resort to it before. I finally did take one after I caught my breath and could sit to work again, though I kept shaking violently for about 10 minutes. I had sporadic bouts of convulsive shuddering through the next 20 minutes or so after I took the med. How I managed to take notes is a mystery. My hand was really gyrating and I had no fine motor control.
We all got through the install, and then I hid in my office. I am working on other stuff in the background as I type this, but I'm really not sure how I'm functioning. I think it's because the other stuff is routine and auto-pilot'ish.
Today sort of added another bit of proof that he seems to think that I'm perfectly normal and just looking for excuses not to be in the cubicle.
I've told him several times now:
1. Please don't surprise me if you can help it.
2. Sitting with my back to a room increases my edginess.
3. I don't hear well and I read lips to bolster comprehension (this wasn't common knowledge at all until very recently and even most of my work group isn't aware of it)
I don't fault him for surprising me like that and scaring me out of my wits. That could have happened from anyone. I fault him for the comment afterward that indicated that he couldn't understand why I was panicking so badly from something that he felt was innocuous.
I can't possibly talk to him today. Tomorrow I am thinking about setting up a meeting with our HR person and the Director to discuss my concerns. That may be viewed as hostile, though, and I'm hesitant. There is an OMBUDSMAN for our workplace, and I think that maybe I *should* talk to them. That's not in the chain-of-command, and it's not threatening.
Should I also say that I like my job and I like my coworkers? I think I've got a masochistic side because I have stayed in a field that has shown that more than 50% of the personnel in this line of work jump out every decade the cohort moves forward. So, after 20 years, about 55-60% of the original group are gone into other fields. One of my favorite coworkers quit without a job to go to after 20 years in our field and became a mortician. She said that dead people were less stressful.
Or maybe I just fear change and the known stresses of the work feed my need for internal pressure.
