I Was In An Abusive Relationship…With My Employer

Written by Keely Heyman, published September 1, 2022

About a million years ago when I began my career as a dispatcher, it seemed like it could be a wonderful start at such a young age. I had a decent salary, I was now part of a pension system, and it was a respectable job! Ok, perhaps the hours could be better, and people yelling at you all day wasn’t exactly perfect, but I would repeat “this is only temporary!” I was young, I was full of hope, and perhaps I was a little bit naïve.

I spent the next several years volunteering, working, and committed to the world of public safety and all that it had to give. I worked so many hours of overtime that sometimes my paychecks looked like one of those giant checks in the lottery pictures, more than a reality. I had become incredibly great at what I did, and I believe I actually enjoyed it.

Yet there was something very, very wrong. I was barely 21 when I started my career in dispatch, so I would like to think that perhaps I had been too young to know the signs, or maybe didn’t understand that what was occurring wasn’t appropriate workplace behavior. It wouldn’t be until many years later that I had come to understand that what I had experienced was abuse. No, not the kind that leaves you bruised and battered, the kind with physical presence. It was a slower, longer version. The kind that grinds you down over the years, but it mostly goes unnoticed because of how gradual it takes over. In fact, it would be 12 years before I was even aware that there was a problem.

There are several incidents that occurred over the years of my career, many of them I would like to tuck away and pretend they didn’t happen, others that sneak up and smack me in the face from time to time. The most notable was being laughed at for obtaining my Associates Degree in Public Safety and Social Services. I am not talking like a “what are you crazy, I cannot believe you did that” laugh. I am talking about a full on – “you are worthless and so is that degree you hold” – laugh. Then suddenly more of my coworkers fell in line with the laughter. Questions arose like, “what are you going to do with that?” “Did Mickey Mouse sign the degree for you?” “You are such a joke” “You don’t need a degree; you are JUST a dispatcher!” I felt utterly defeated. I was the first in my small family to graduate from college. I never celebrated that degree because I was afraid to seem too “bold” and I was afraid of the next punch from my employer should I make too much noise.

The thing was the abuse didn’t stop there; I was surrounded by it in all facets. I was harassed in a way that anyone in a business environment would have likely filed a HR complaint at bare minimum, if not a full-on civil suit. When we called out sick, we would have to provide a reason. I understand that in many places this is completely normal, and it was for me too at the time, I honestly thought nothing of it until later at a different place of employment that I realized it’s not your employer’s business, especially as civilian staff goes. It didn’t stop there.  If you left your house for any reason during that sick day, you had to call and report to them that you were leaving your house, yes even if it was to go to the doctor. Every move you made had to be documented during your time out. Nothing says invasive like the Lieutenant and Captain of the police department showing up at your house to confirm you are actually home sick while you are vomiting and wearing nothing but a short t-shirt, because you hadn’t a moment to get dressed (no kidding that is a true story). I once had surgery and when I went in for my post-op three days later, I noticed my tires had been marked to see if my vehicle had been moved. As if actual surgery wasn’t an acceptable enough reason to be out, they drove by to be sure I didn’t leave. If I took vacation and didn’t physically leave the area there was the very real possibility that, should they fall short on the desk, an officer would be sent to your house, and you would be ordered to work. So, it was best to plan to be away, or always drinking so you could not be ordered back to work on your days off.

Those examples are small in context to what was occurring everywhere else. I had convinced myself that it was all normal behavior. I did work for a paramilitary organization and I wasn’t the only employee being treated this way, so it was alright, right?  Besides, I really needed the money and the benefits as I was no longer on my parents’ insurance. Years past and I became more and more dependent on the relationship I had with my employer, and after all, it couldn’t be that bad. I got up everyday and went back, right? I needed them to like me so I would work harder and try harder and end up in trouble for things that seemed so out of left field, but it was ok, they thought I was a great dispatcher. I would work 21 days in a row sometimes, just to show my commitment. I would even offer to work alone when it was a two-man show. I just seemed easier to do so, I didn’t want someone else’s day to be ruined because of staffing, so I worked alone. On those days, I would ask someone to come in to cover while I ran to the bathroom, maybe once a day. They would stop a car first on their way in, of course.

Some friends, and family members would be furious for me. For the working conditions of the rest of the dispatch center, but ultimately, I would go back in and start the cycle all over again. There would be this tension that would build up, something would explode or come to a head within the workplace, then everyone would make up and it would be status quo for a while. Sounds sort of familiar, doesn’t it?

 I was trapped in the cycle of abuse and never once realized I was in an abusive relationship with my employer. It would be years after our separation that I ever uttered the term abuse.  However, in retrospect, it was a toxic relationship, and it had many signs of abuse. My employer controlled my finances, and I feared leaving as a result. My employer had convinced me that I was unable to do better and if I did try to leave, they would ruin it for me, and had done so a time or two before. I feared they wouldn’t let me go, so many times I wouldn’t try. My employer kept me there and busy with them so I had limited contact with family, friends, or loved ones that could help me see what I was experiencing wasn't ok, and when I was with them they completely attempted to get me to see the truth of what I was going through. But yet I still returned, because I truly believed that what I did, who I was, and my experiences did not matter, and no one would care about the work I did or about me as a human, because I was, after all, JUST a dispatcher.

To them, we were an expendable group of civilians that did not need to be treated as knowledgeable staff. Unless we were sworn, there was no real reason for us to attend trainings, or conferences. There would be no need for further educational advancement or even a working knowledge of how 9-1-1 systems operate. We were to sit there push the buttons, answer the phones, dispatch, and stay in our lane. When we asked about attending a conference we would be laughed at or they would send the request back to us, marked in red pen commenting on our grammatical errors and even if we corrected the errors, they would still deny the request but not after laughing at us for it first.

I try to remember that everything has a lesson. The lessons learned from years of being treated like a pest are difficult to find when you must sift through the endless traumas that you experienced during that time. Somehow, they are there, sitting in the shadows in the forest of angst. It took quite some time for me to locate those lessons, but they were there waiting for me.

The first lesson was that of boundaries.  About the time I was coming to terms with the idea that abuse is not limited to romantic relationships, but also work ones, I stumbled upon something on the Internet that said “I hope you know that it’s ok to choose yourself. It’s ok to walk away from those who do not value your worth. It’s ok to be intentional with your energy and what you invest it in.” I invested years of my life into a place that valued little of what I, or anyone else, offered. Boundaries are meant to protect you and create a safe space for your intentional life. If it is interrupting that peace or if it is difficult to find that peace, perhaps it is time to walk away from it.

The second lesson it taught me to listen to my body. Many times, I struggled with sleep, the stress on my body found me in a constant state of illnesses that ranged from the cold-like symptoms to pneumonia. I thought that was also normal, I thought it was just me. It was stress! I had never really thought about how difficult it had been to live in a toxic environment while being compounded by an already stressful work environment. I was slowly becoming a shadow of myself.

The third lesson it taught me was self-worth. No one is allowed to tell you what you are worth, but you. This one was harder to dig down and find the effort with. Impostor syndrome is real, but you take that couple it with almost two decades of being told you are worthless in the one place that is supposed to value what you bring to the table, and well that was a trying argument to have with yourself. Your worth is defined by you and you alone. Everything you attempt even if it’s a failure brings something to your arsenal that you didn’t have before. Your experiences, and choices whether good or bad add value to your story. Your worth is forever growing, forever shaping, forever reaching for more. Don’t prevent it from expanding further than you imagined because someone told you otherwise.

Thank you, Keely, for sharing your experience with us. If you are interested in writing a blog, please email 911derWomen@gmail.com. Sign up for our newsletter on our homepage to stay up to date with 911der Women programming, exclusive content and blog updates. Click here and scroll to the bottom.

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