Me Myself & My Toxic Boss

I quit my job today.

The restaurant business is easy to fall into.

Especially when you have nothing, nobody and no idea what you want to be when you grow up. What most people do not realize, is the incredible education that you can receive. A type of learning that cannot be taught at any university.

Not to dismiss the obvious advantages of a formal education, but I want to recognize that the school of hard knocks has it’s merits too.

The realization working at my first restaurant job that I could be independent and make a decent living without a formal education, gave me hope for my future.

I was excited to escape my life. On my own at the age of seventeen, I worked in every imaginable chain to make ends meet. I still have nightmares occasionally about serving tables at Applebee’s, Outback Steakhouse and TGIF.

I steadily moved onto increasingly higher-end establishments over the past eighteen years. Finally landing my dream bartending job last year.

In the right spot, bartending can be a great job. You mostly only deal with interesting people who appreciate the intricacies of the craft cocktail art.

My clientele ranges from the average city dweller to the rich and famous. Meeting new people, catching up with regulars, slinging fine cocktails and entertaining folks on their big night out, has been my life.

Personally, I enjoy the unexpected human connections that can be made, when you have the opportunity to shoot the breeze with whoever crosses your path every day.

As a bartender you often change in the blink of an eye from a therapist, date, sibling, parent, or just a straight-up dealer as you make your rounds.

When a lonely traveler tells you that your conversation was one of the best parts of their trip. Or you gently coax a grumpy guest to come out of their shell and when they leave, they say “I was having a terrible day, thank you for making my night!”

That’s what being a bartender is really about.

I love driving home at 3 a.m. when the city is quiet. Winding down with a whiskey or a glass of wine. Creating an intricate meal in the wee hours.

Watching the mass of early morning commuters leave for work, before finally shutting the blinds. This is a life off the beaten path.

I stopped by the bar to see how it felt as a guest before inquiring about a job.

Jason, the manager, went out of his way to introduce himself and look me up and down. He grasped my hand, “Welcome, I’m a Psychopath” Jason emanated with his eyes.

Alas, I was distracted by the glamour of the bar and the prospect of landing this fantastic opportunity. I did not hear my intuition. Instead, I graciously demanded an interview and started a few weeks later.

What bothers me the most is that after nearly two decades spent working in this business, I am generally an expert at reading people. For this guy to fool me for so long… actually means that he may be a legitimate American Psycho.

For months Jason was overly cheerful and encouraging towards me. It really did strike me as odd.

In fact there were a few instances when he was so over the top about it, I was annoyed. I ignored my gut feeling and thought he had my back. Was not only my manager, but my friend.

Then things started to change. Slowly…

First came the usual inappropriate comments. “You’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen, I hope you don’t mind me telling you that” or “you look like a million bucks behind the bar” etc.

I can handle a few borderline compliments, the last thing I am is a prude.

I do mind my manager making comments such as that and then treating me differently than my male counterparts. I am at the very least equal in my abilities.

I am not going to be shy or apologetic about the fact that I work my ass off.

As a woman of mixed race in a occupation dominated by Caucasian males, I have had a unique experience in this field. I never wanted to think of it in terms of race or gender.

I am after all just a person, but this experience has forced me to confront the reality that not everyone treats me the same. Simply because I’m not fully Caucasian and/or male.

It appears that when I did not reciprocate his cooing, Jason decided to turn on me. Although, I honestly do not know what exactly happened to make him want to mistreat me. I should have seen it coming. All the red flags were there.

I was completely blindsided the first time it happened, six months ago.

It was an unusually slow night, only a handful of guests in the bar. Jason crept up behind me and hissed in my ear with such disdain, “Why don’t you try to look like you’re working.” He walked away without giving me a chance to respond.

Jason had never previously ever had a critical thing to say to me before. In fact, he went out of his way to tell me that I was one of the best bartenders he had ever “seen or worked with”.

Where was this coming from all of a sudden? A pattern emerged, reflecting on the past six months. Jason lacks the balls to correct or criticize any of the male bartenders when needed.

Yet, he has an uncontrollable urge to unfairly chastise me, only when no one is there to witness him.

I stand up for myself. We argue. He acts like we have reached some sort of understanding. Then he is inordinately nice to me, until he can’t stand it anymore and it starts over again. Classic abusive behavior.

Jason has even felt the need to take me into the back hallway to yell at me because a yawn escaped and I dared to fold my arms for a moment.

The next week one of my male colleagues yawns and crossed his arms while speaking to him, as he laughed at whatever they were discussing.

It is completely ridiculous to be reprimanded for simply yawning in the first place and infuriating to see that standard only applied to me.

His weird aggression’s towards me became my new normal.

How about an impromptu 2:30 a.m. meeting in his office? Jason wrote, “look busy” on a form that he wanted me to sign. He was writing me up.

I questioned what exactly he meant by that. And also, if that’s what he thought, why hadn’t he simply taken the opportunity to speak to me about it. You know, in the last twelve hours we had been working in close proximity together.

He did not have the ability to articulate what it was exactly that he would like for me to “look busy” doing.

This past month shit really hit the fan.

After reprimanding me for speaking to two inquisitive bar guests seated directly in front of my service well, “too much” (apparently I am supposed to ignore guests if they have too many questions), he attempted to get me to heel like a dog, so we could have another one of our talks in the hallway.

I refused. Obviously I am a feline. I do not heel.

I asked if we could wait until the end of service, considering we have a full bar and I would like for someone else to be present. I was weary of not having a witness to the inappropriate and unprofessional talks he’s so fond of.

In front of my bar guests, he demanded repeatedly that I come speak to him in the hallway. His swollen face was sweating and turning red.

“If you don’t come to the hallway right now, you know what’s going to happen.”

I supposed he was threatening to fire me.

Instead of the hallway, he decided to march us outside the front door to argue in the rain with guests coming and going.

Everything he had to say was ill-conceived bullshit. Out of nowhere he said, “I fucking love you, but you just need to do what I say.”

What?

He followed that up with, “I’m watching you Jeze, I’m always watching you…”

In shock, I excused myself, got back behind the bar and finished my shift. All the while pretending to be having the time of my life with my bar guests. I would be damned if I was going to let him see that I was rattled.

When I got into my car that night, I finally let a few tears fall. I acknowledged to myself how out of control this situation had become.

I do not mind standing up for myself, but this had turned into something else.

As usual, Jason acts like nothing happened and is suspiciously kind to me. Everyday for the following weeks he greets me with, “Hi Jeze!!! How are you? Good to see you buddy!!!”

I finally realize that he has never been genuine. Not once. He is just trying to placate me. He is also setting it up, so that it seems like we get along just fine to everyone else.

When I speak up, no one will believe me. He is so “nice” to my co-workers they couldn’t comprehend his dark side.

The last night.

Jason calls me to his office at 2:00 a.m. while I am closing the bar. My heart sinks. I am not surprised to find that he has prepared a new excuse to try to intimidate me. He then brings the most recent altercation up, as if it was my fault.

“I’m your boss…” he reminds me repeatedly. He can’t believe he had to ask me to heel six times. I embarrassed him he says.

He is too narcissistic to understand that he actually only embarrassed himself.

“I can’t protect you anymore” Jason is glaring at me sweaty and red faced in the florescent-lit, cramped office.

I wonder momentarily if I heard him correctly. Protect me? What a senseless comment to make. How is he protecting me.

After making one last ridiculous ultimatum, he threatens to fire me. I have had enough.

“I don’t think we have anything left to discuss” I remarked before excusing myself.

A few minutes later a text message appears on my phone from Jason, “this is going to be Jezebel’s last week.”

I look up, suddenly he is standing near me, back in the bar. I didn’t hear him approach… Just as a horror movie would depict. His demeanor had completely changed.

Jason wants to make up. “Come here, give me a hug…” He says, as he is drawing in closer.

I am in tears, realizing how unsettled I am by this person. Something is wrong with him, I can feel it. I felt it for months, but ignored my instinct.

I glance at the clock, it’s 2:40 a.m. We’re completely alone in the darkly lit bar. I have no choice other than to return his veiled hug, tell him I care about my job. I want to be here Jason, really.

And then I ran to my car. That was the last time I saw him.

I went to his supervisors and told them everything. Something about the way his behavior towards me has been increasingly aggressive was unnerving.

The alarming comments that he would make, only when we were alone. The premeditated attempts to intimidate me.

His odd fixation coupled with the accumulation of these incidents, made me feel unsafe around him anymore.

I thought that they would do something. Anything.

Jason gets off without even a slap on the wrist. Aside from his text message, I have no evidence. I’m treated as if I am just overreacting to his “managerial style” and “coaching”.

They seemed smug in their analysis. My concerns about his behavior are not even specifically mentioned during my last meeting with his supervisors. Except to say Jason does not treat anyone else like this. It can’t be true.

Way to go Sherlock. How many times do I have to explain that the entire reason I have been so troubled by this, is precisely because I know that I am the only one that he is treating like this. If he was a maniac to everyone, I wouldn’t be personally concerned.

The meeting ended with an extremely vague description of essentially, no action being taken to address his behavior.

I am expected to return to work the next day to work along side him, as if nothing has happened.

What a crock of shit.

I quit.

Having enough self-worth to remove myself from this situation feels liberating. One of the most coveted bartending jobs in the city isn’t worth my sanity.

As I write this I would normally be a few hours into my shift, with Jason breathing down my neck.

I let a job that came with a manipulative toxic manager, drain my motivation and energy to pursue my personal goals.

This experience made me realize that I am committed to moving forward with publishing my writing. To build something for myself for once, that no one can take away or force me to abandon.

➡️ Jezebel Feast is the editor of “Jezebel’s Feast,” a personal blog focused on the vast topic of living a sustainable lifestyle. Visit her new home jezebelsfeast.com. Want to keep in touch? Catch Jeze on Instagram 📸 or Pinterest 📌…🔗…🚀