Life with Kelso

As promised, here’s the blog post about my journey from one toxic job to another before finally landing one that I genuinely love—a job that doesn’t leave me feeling stressed, anxious, or dreading Monday mornings.

Fair warning: this is going to be a long one. Grab a cup of coffee (or your beverage of choice), get comfortable, and settle in. I wanted to share the full story because I know there are people who may be going through something similar, and I hope my experience can help someone feel a little less alone or recognize the signs of a toxic work environment before it’s too late.

Let’s dive in.

Before all of this, I worked from home for three years. At first, it was great. No commute, flexible schedule, and I got to spend my days with my cat. But over time, I realized the work itself wasn’t fulfilling. It became repetitive, and I found myself doing the minimum required before spending the rest of my workday applying for other jobs, running errands, or creating content for Instagram.

As much as I appreciated working remotely, I also realized something important about myself: I need human interaction. Working alone every day started to take a toll on my mental health. I felt isolated, unmotivated, and honestly, a little depressed.

So when I was offered an administrative assistant position supporting the Vice Chair of a Radiation Oncology department, I couldn’t have been more excited. It felt like exactly what I had been looking for—a chance to get out of the house, meet new people, and grow professionally.

Looking back, though, the red flags were there from the very beginning.

During the interview, I asked what the day-to-day responsibilities would look like. Instead of receiving a clear answer, I was told something along the lines of, “Travel, calendar management, clinic scheduling, and whatever ad hoc duties your provider needs.” I was also told there would be opportunities to grow beyond traditional administrative work and eventually take on more project management responsibilities.

I wanted that to be true so badly that I ignored the warning signs.

The first month went well. I completed orientation, learned the basics, and felt optimistic about my future there.

Then, little by little, things started to change.

I wasn’t properly trained. Instead of being shown how to complete tasks or given guidance, work was simply handed to me with a “Here you go.” I was expected to figure everything out on my own.

The workplace culture also became increasingly difficult to navigate. Gossip seemed to be a normal part of the environment. I frequently heard that conversations about me were happening behind my back. At one point, a coworker started a rumor that I was “a black cloud” because I had supposedly said I was bored. When IT issued me a work laptop, coworkers questioned why I received one while they had to use their personal computers from home. People even commented on something as small as me wearing a department sweatshirt on Fridays.

None of those things affected my ability to do my job, but they created an environment where I constantly felt judged, stressed, and anxious. It seemed like every move I made was being watched or discussed, and I felt an overwhelming pressure to always look busy or have something to work on. Instead of feeling supported, I found myself walking on eggshells, worried that even the smallest thing could become the next topic of conversation.

There were also situations where collaboration simply didn’t exist. I was assigned to work with another employee on creating a Standard Operating Procedure (SOP), but instead of working together, she completed it herself, excluded me from the process, and later blind copied my physician on an email criticizing my work when issues arose.

Even taking time off became uncomfortable. If I used a sick day or vacation day, assumptions were made that I must be interviewing elsewhere. Whether that was true or not wasn’t anyone else’s business, yet it became another topic of conversation.

Looking back now, I realize none of these incidents alone made the workplace toxic.

It was the pattern.

The lack of support.

The constant gossip.

The absence of trust.

The feeling that I had to walk on eggshells every single day.

Eventually, I realized something that changed my perspective completely: no job is worth sacrificing your mental health.

I don’t share this story to criticize the people I worked with or dwell on the past. I share it because I know there are others who are sitting in a job that makes them anxious every Sunday night, wondering if they’re overreacting.

You’re probably not.

Sometimes we convince ourselves that if we just work harder, stay quieter, or prove ourselves a little more, things will get better.

Sometimes they don’t.

And that’s okay.

So, I made the difficult decision to leave.

Walking out of that job felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I was convinced the hardest part was over and that my next opportunity would be everything I’d been searching for—a supportive team, meaningful work, and a healthy environment where I could finally thrive.

I accepted another position full of hope and excitement. After everything I had just experienced, I thought there was no way lightning could strike twice.

Unfortunately, I was wrong.

What I didn’t realize at the time was that I had escaped one toxic workplace only to walk into another. It looked different on the surface, but many of the same issues were still there—just packaged in a different way.

That second job taught me an entirely different set of lessons, and in some ways, it was even more eye-opening than the first.

At the end of January, I started a new position as a Durable Medical Equipment (DME) Coordinator. After leaving my previous job, I was hopeful that this would be the fresh start I had been looking for.

During the interview, the position sounded almost perfect. I was told I would primarily be working out of one office, my hours would be Monday through Friday from 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m., and I would receive a 30-minute to one-hour lunch break depending on the clinic schedule. It checked all the boxes. The office was close to home, the schedule seemed predictable, and I would finally get the face-to-face interaction I had been missing while working remotely.

I thought, This is it.

Unfortunately, the reality was very different.

During training, I traveled between four of the five office locations. That part didn’t bother me—I completely understood the need to learn from different providers and become familiar with each clinic.

The challenges began once training was over.

Instead of working from one primary location, I was sent to a different office almost every day. My schedule constantly changed, and my work hours varied anywhere from 7:30 a.m. until 5:00 or even 6:00 p.m. Some days I would work at one location, while other days I would split my time between multiple offices.

To make things even more stressful, I didn’t have a consistent schedule. The weekly schedule was usually sent out on Friday, but even then, it wasn’t guaranteed. It could change at any point during the following week. I might think I was working at one office on Wednesday, only to find out on Monday that I had been reassigned somewhere else—or that I would be splitting my day between two different locations.

Planning anything outside of work became nearly impossible.

Whether it was scheduling appointments, making dinner plans, or interviewing for another job, I never knew what time I’d actually get off work. Lunch breaks were just as unpredictable. Some days I had 15 or 20 minutes to eat, while other days I was lucky enough to get close to an hour.

The uncertainty was exhausting.

Ironically, I’m back in an administrative assistant role—the same type of position I had sworn off after my first experience. But this time, everything is different.

I’m supported by my team. My manager trusts me. I have a predictable schedule, realistic expectations, and a healthy work environment where I actually enjoy coming to work.

For the first time in a long time, I don’t spend Sunday evenings filled with anxiety. I don’t dread Monday mornings. I don’t count down the hours until it’s time to go home.

Instead, I get to focus on doing my job, continuing to learn, and being part of a workplace that values respect, communication, and work-life balance.

Looking back, I’m grateful for every experience—even the difficult ones. They taught me what I deserve in a workplace, what red flags to watch for, and that it’s okay to leave a job that no longer serves you.

If you’re in a toxic work environment right now, I want you to know this:

A bad job doesn’t define your career.

A toxic workplace doesn’t define your worth.

And sometimes the hardest decision—to leave—is the one that opens the door to exactly where you’re meant to be.

If sharing my experiences helps even one person recognize the warning signs, advocate for themselves, or find the courage to pursue something better, then every difficult chapter was worth telling.