My Inner Voice Almost Got Me Fired
I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat
In 2014, my grandfather received the devastating diagnosis of pancreatic cancer. Fast forward to 2016, doctors held out hope that he might have another year left.
When I traveled to Puerto Rico, aware of his illness, I found him still conversing and moving about, unaffected by the seriousness of his condition. Alongside my grandmother, I attended his medical appointments, all of us hoping he’d live longer than the doctors expected.
When I visited him months later, he wasn’t the same. Despite his sense of humor and pride, he looked physically worn out. We shared stories and laughter, but the reality of his illness lingered. Cancer can deceive, making us hope for the best while facing the worst. My family avoided admitting it, but he was fading, his time slipping away.
My aunt took my grandfather to top doctors in Florida for better care. After chemotherapy, she could have moved him to a hospice facility, but he decided to spend his final days at home.
I asked for a week off work to visit my grandfather, wanting to spend time with him while he was still alert. While waiting for my manager’s approval, my coworkers supported my decision, as my chosen week didn’t overlap with anyone else’s schedule.
My boss took forever to approve my time off. At one point, I thought she had forgotten, and the week I wanted off was getting closer.
To this day, I believe she did it intentionally. She was well-liked as a regular employee, but once she got a higher position, she changed drastically towards those who had supported her in the past.
After being persistent, she handed me back my slip with a big X marked in red pen under “not approved.”
“Why was it denied?” I asked.
“That week is unavailable, and I need you here,” she claimed.
“I asked around, and everyone I know is not going away that week,” I said.
“That’s not your job to ask around. We have an important meeting coming up, I’m sorry,” she said with a snark.
“But I gave this to you almost two months in advance. I’ve been telling you everything that’s been going on,” I responded.
“My decision is final.” she said while walking away.
My inner voice got the best of me. It wanted me to finally stand up to this woman, to stand up for myself.
“You have to be fucking kidding me!” I yelled in frustration.
“Excuse me, don’t you dare use profanity with me, I’m writing you up for insubordination!” she demanded.
“I told you how much this means to me. This isn’t a vacation. I have to see my grandfather before he dies!” I said, tears running down my face.
She walked away, and a few hours later, she asked me to go up to her office.
When I walked in, there was a union representative with her. According to her, I cursed her out and disrespected her character. She explained to the union rep that I told her “fuck you.”
I looked at her with disbelief. I swear I think I even gasped. I repeated myself, exactly what I said to her, in front of the rep that I did use the F-word but not directly at her.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! That’s what I said. How dare you change my words?”
By then, I didn’t care about losing my job. I had endured worse during my five years there, but this was the final straw. That voice in my head urged me to stand up to her mistreatment of me and others.
She lost the fight with no witnesses or proof to back her claims. I talked to my union rep about leaving despite the denial. She said I might get written up. I proudly accepted it. I didn’t care.
I hold my grandfather high on a pedestal, and this job wasn’t going to change my decision in leaving. There was that feeling that if I didn’t go, I was going to regret it for the rest of my life due to a job that can easily replace me the minute I’m gone. That was my attitude; I was livid.
I spent the most incredible week with my grandfather. A week I will never forget, a week I will never get back. I bathed him, fed him, sang to him, and prayed over him.
Every night, I’d go to the room next to his and get on my knees praying for a miracle. That same little voice had reassured me that whatever the outcome, everything was going to be okay.
On my last day in Florida, a nurse came by to check up on him, and he asked to speak to her in private. When she came out of the room, she explained to us that he was ready to go, but he didn’t want to leave as long as he knew his wife, my grandmother, would be okay. He wanted her to move on gracefully, appreciating the wonderful life they shared together. We all cried because we knew he was ready; we saw him suffering, and we knew he’d leave us eventually.
The morning of my flight came, and I dreaded leaving. I knew it might be the last time I saw him alive. I lay beside him, expressing my love and gratitude, sharing my deepest feelings. I shared my hope of finding a man as great as he was. I held his face, kissed him, and embraced him tightly.
My uncle was calling me, urging me to go before I missed my flight. He must’ve come to the room a few times until I finally climbed out of my grandfather’s bed and let go of his hand, kissing it and squeezing it one last time.
I cried the entire drive to the airport and even mid-air during my flight. I cried so hard that I felt my eyeballs bulge out of my eyelids, swollen.
A few days later he passed away.
In this situation, my inner voice was clear and determined. Despite facing challenges and opposition, I firmly prioritize my family over my job.
Thank you for this week’s theme: “That Little Voice Inside” by Liberty Forrest, Author
