If someone had told me a few years ago that they were having a panic attack, I would have hugged them and told them 'everything will be ok'. Had I known that this sort of thing would be an almost daily event for me, I would have done things very differently.
When I started working at the Bridal store, I was so excited for this crazy fun opportunity to work with women, and make their dress the most perfect dress for their magical day. A year later, I would be a crumbling mess, unable to breathe, constantly feeling like I want to throw up.
The alterations manager of the store was a woman from Iran (I say this because of cultural differences in the way things are managed here and where she's from). This woman did not have the skills to run such a high-volume department. She actually slapped me upside the head on several occasions (as well as other coworkers), slapped my ass, and once pinched me for speaking to the store manager about an issue she refused to deal with on several occasions. I responded to the last incident with "Listen, that hurts. That is not okay. You can't pinch employees. That's illegal." To which she responded "It's just a joooooooke".
At one point in time, I was called in to the staff room. The store manager sat down, with a manilla folder in hand. She asked me why I falsified a receipt, saying that I had done a job, when it clearly hadn't. On average, at that store, I worked 10-30 gowns and dresses every week. I asked her to identify the gown in question. It was easy then to remember it; There were only two in the store: a size 2 and a size 4, and they were VW sample gowns. The size 2 was still on the mannequin. Good, so I knew one of them didn't accidentally get switched or something. This particular gown is a huge 25-layer ballgown. Each layer has to be hemmed one at a time to avoid kinks in the hem. I had worked on it for an entire morning, working one layer at a time. I was being told that never happened. It wasn't so much a meeting, but an interrogation with rhetorical questions. I was never given the chance to explain anything. She then called in the alterations manager to "participate in the discussion". It seemed more like a bullying session and I sat there with them both pointing and yelling at me, calling me a liar. The manager of alterations yelling at me that "I'm the reason she has headaches every day". Since neither of them had any interest in hearing my experience with this gown, I got up and left and refused to sign their disciplinary action.
After speaking to my coworker in the sewing room, it was determined that I had indeed finished that dress, and she told this account to the store manager. As did another one of my coworkers. After that incident, I started feeling depressed. I needed some time away. I went to Quebec city for a week and ignored my phone. I came back to Ottawa, shaking every time I told myself I should call to check my work schedule. Eventually the store manager called me, and she asked whether I was back or not. I said no. A couple days later, I called and went in to work. As I got off the bus and crossed the street, an overwhelming feeling of dread washed over me. I slowly walked towards the store, trying to take deep breaths, but each time, my lungs felt empty. I just couldn't catch my breath. This routine went on for a couple weeks. One afternoon, I walked in and the manager was standing near the door. She greeted me and said "Come with me. We have to talk", and then another panic attack set in. I couldn't hold back the tears. After I sat down, she realized just the amount of stress I was under. She then said "[The alterations manager] is no longer with us..."
Me: "...SHE DIED?!?"
Her: "No, no. We had to let her go."
It turns out she had done some research after my coworkers came forward with their statements. The alterations manager had asked me specifically to work on this gown because the customer was a TLC. aka - a problem customer. She "wanted the gown to be perfect so that she can leave happy". The alterations manager had marked the hem. Turns out she had marked it incorrectly, waited till I did the work and signed off on it, then gone back and re-marked the hem higher up to make it look as if I hadn't done the work, and then signed off on it. Then, after a bit more research, they found all sorts of other things she was doing. I felt a smidgeon of relief knowing that I would no longer have to face physical abuse at work. We worked without a manager for about 6 months, until they found a new one. I managed to do some of the paperwork and reports the alts manager was supposed to do, while also trying to keep my sewing quota up. The girls in the alts room all banded together, and worked well. I was still getting panic attacks almost daily, and went to see my doctor. He was shocked at my high blood pressure and asked me "What the hell is going on?" I told him about work, he prescribed some anxiety meds, and he told me to quit. A few more months went by, and then I really couldn't handle it anymore. I don't usually quit a job without having a safety net, but this time things were different.
I worked on costumes at the NAC for the month of August, and then Halloween costumes. It took several months for me to finally stop feeling like I was trying to swim with a rock on my head. Things are getting better... but things are still shaky. I've noticed that I'm constantly tired, and not particularly hungry. I love working from home - I can stay up all night working on things (insomnia is great!), and do it at my own pace, while listening to music other than Top 40 wedding reception crap. Running my own business has helped me work things through. Money is running out though. Since I quit the store, I've been sending resumes, and even more in the last few months. Depression seems to be setting in again. It's a vicious cycle, because I constantly feel like sleeping, which makes getting stuff done rather difficult. Try sewing while you're nodding off. It's an adventure!
Well, that's where I'm at for now.
