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The Smiling Knife Behind the Door 

 

 

Before the hurricanes hit — before everything unraveled — I actually got along with our new VP of Sales.

Let’s call him… Chad.

(Not his real name. But if the passive-aggressive shoe fits...)

 

At first, things seemed fine. He wasn’t hard to read, but he was hard to digest — condescending in a way that came gift-wrapped in politeness. He had a way of offering criticism that sounded like kindness but felt like shame.

"You're doing fine, I just expected a little more polish on something this basic."

“No worries — I’ll fix it later.”

 

Oof.

 

I’m not built for that kind of communication. I’m direct. I value clarity. I believe feedback should build, not belittle. But over time, I learned to bite my tongue and just try to read his moods. After all, I was just the sales admin. Maybe expecting more was naive.

As time passed, things didn’t improve — they got messier.

 

About a year and eight months into the job, I finally spoke up. I was tired of apologizing for mistakes that weren’t mine — they were communication breakdowns, vague directions, or moving targets disguised as expectations. I’d be invited into his office (which used to be mine, full circle moment) and leave even more confused than when I walked in. His thoughts jumped from task to task so quickly, I couldn't even finish a sentence before we were off chasing something else.

 

We liked each other as humans. We laughed often. But when I started standing my ground — when I stopped just smiling and nodding — the laughter got quieter. The vibe changed.

 

I’d say things like:

“Hold on, I didn’t understand what you meant by that.”
“Can we circle back to that last request?”
“I’m unclear — can you explain that again?”

 

At first, he said he welcomed questions. But in reality? He wanted obedience, not clarification. He needed someone to anticipate his thoughts — not question them. And the more I asserted myself, the more I felt the shift.

And then… things got personal.

Not in a dramatic, office-gossip way.

In a me way.

 

Old wounds started creeping in. Personal struggles collided with professional ones. My mental health began to fray — not just from work stress, but from years of unresolved pain bubbling to the surface. I was doing my best to keep my head above water.

But when you’re already sinking, all it takes is one more weight tied to your ankle.

 

What came next will rock you to the core.

 

👉 Next post: What happened when I finally asked for mental health support at work… and why “Of course we support you” turned into something much darker.