The first time was about seven months ago when I was still doing bits of work in operations. It was the evening when I passed my resignation letter to my Supervisor. Our team was going to be dissolved within a week, and rather than being transferred to another team, I decided it would be best to just leave. I was telling myself that the past year with my team has been amazing, that it was too good to be true, and I knew in my heart of hearts that it wouldn't have lasted anyway. That this is how things usually go in this industry -- that careers are, at best, a temporal thing. I told myself then (convinced, really) that it must be time once again to rethink of the path that I should be taking, and finally figure out if I would really like to do art for good.
The team was already having its usual pre-shift briefing when I arrived. I stayed silent from the minute I sat myself down by my workstation, until the briefing was over. I honestly couldn't register what was being said, as how things usually are when one is wracked by other, more powerful distractions in the mind. I did hear it, however, when my Supervisor called my attention and asked what I thought of what she said. Nobody noticed my shaking form underneath my thick sweater when I stood up and handed over my letter. I wanted to say something, but a burning, boiling sensation steamed up all the words forming in my throat.
Obviously, the path I thought of taking from that evening onwards was redirected since I'm still here in the same company. She told me of an opening in the HR Department and suggested that I try applying for it. She believed in me and, bless her wise and kind soul, supported me all the way. Work with HR has been nothing but difficult, and sometimes I even think it might have been better if I did leave that night seven months ago, but I'm still grateful for the nudge she gave me and the faith she placed on me, that it's been one of my main sources of strength to push harder on. And that was the first time I almost cried because of work.
The second time was Friday night, during the meeting with the Program Manager for our online English teaching account. I planned to keep silent, let my boss do the talking, and just speak when spoken to. And I was spoken to. My boss asked me about the applicants whom the manager tagged as "buffers," and I relayed the status of each. The manager was nodding, until she heard the name of one candidate. "Who is he? I don't remember speaking with him," she said.
"He's the gay guy," I said in a monotone. "You decided not to speak with him anymore," I looked at her straight in the eye, and I couldn't help a crack in my voice, "when you found out he was gay. You never even gave him a chance."
I'm sure the others in the meeting noticed it. It took a lot to keep myself in control. I whispered a quiet apology to my boss, and I let them continue with the discussion. I was profoundly hurt, even when I thought I wouldn't be. I wasn't angry, to my surprise. But I did feel a wrenching in my chest. Pity, I suppose. I pitied her, for being the way she was, for the way she looked at the world. But she's young though, and she has yet to learn a lot. I learned a lot, dealing with her, but it's something I never want to go through again. And that was the second time I almost cried because of work.
