Fail Experiment

My attempt to come out, at a previous employer.

Humiliation, can be taught, in the most cruel and painful manner, under a caring and supportive guise, to a person. Thought, I had correctly read, the emotional mood of my workplace, when I planned, to emerge from the gender closet, to the other employees, that I am a Transwoman. Talk about a serious mental lapse, in my critical judgment, which I sketch out, in the following monologue.

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A Failed Experiment

Had big plans, for this moment, how things would unfold for me, at work, when I exited from the gender closet, announcing to everyone, I am a Transwoman. Right down, to the very smallest detail, except I had not taken into consideration, management’s subtle but very negative reaction to my news. How, over a period of several months, their position, evolved from being totally supportive, to finding any legal excuse to delay, having to tackle the contentious issue, around my "coming out".

I worked for a small to medium sized logistic company, whose owners were Born Again Christians, located near Pearson International Airport, in Mississauga, Ontario. Basically loading and off-loading trailers, of used consumers' electronic, small automotive parts and various other skids of mixed fertilizer products, often working very long hours of overtime. While waiting, for the last driver’ return, back to the warehouse, before offloading their truck and prep it for the following day, if need be. Think, the only person, truly happy, I was working, those incredibly long hours, is the taxman, with his long reach, deep, into my shallow pockets.

After my very emotional and destructive meltdown, in July 2006, following mom's outing of me, I was forced, to return to work, three weeks later, with my bank account reading almost zero, facing the dire threat of being fired, if I didn’t return back to work, pronto. Health-wise, I had only started to take very tentative steps, in rebuilding my mental health, battling sudden outbreaks of tears, wild mood swings, and a general feeling of malaise towards the world. Physically, my body wasn’t ready for work, either, having lost several kilograms and overall strength, during the depression. Except, I could not continue avoiding this reality, my life had halted, just a few stops above rock bottom, as far as; my emotions and finances go.

Despite these roadblocks, I was looking for a positive way, to continue onwards with my life, except this time, I would be, the “one” calling the shots, determining the speed, I would move at. Above all, I needed to, come out, at work, as well, ending this hideous and very stressful double life, of mine. Cautiously, I had to find out, what my immediate supervisor's feelings were, in regards, towards me, and my coming out, as a Transwoman. Must admit, feeling very nervous and scared; how he would react, either, in a very rude and unsupportive way, cracking crude remarks about this, being my problem. Thus, deal with it, on my own personal time. Or, tell me, I was fired and go find a new job, elsewhere. Yeah, I know, this sounds so paranoid, but a very real possible reality, I had to face, given the reactions from the general public that I have witnessed, in my baby steps of transitioning, whether, near Toronto’s Gay Village, or here, in Brampton, itself, among its various minority groups.

My supervisor, he had a very vague idea, about some of the emotional turmoil; I had experienced over the previous three weeks, but not know the full depth of it, during an exchange of phone calls, we had, as I explained my mom’s reactions and my resulting deep depression and suicide attempts. He was able to handle that part of my news, quite well, but, I know, he was totally floored, regarding, by my coming out of the gender closet. Several moments of an uneasy silence, before I heard, a reply of, "wow, that’s explains some things". Promising me, he would keep this quiet, until after he talked with the senior management, about my evolving status. As the company didn't have any official policy, regarding a "trans" employee and how they would share this knowledge, with the other employees. Sometimes, it sucks to be the forerunner, setting the ground rules which others had to follow.

During this time, I did not have a regular family doctor and was forced to depend on walk-in clinics or the local emergency department, for my medical needs. This was a huge mistake, which would haunt me, throughout the remainder of my employment, there. Rarely, did I take time off, since it would mean I lost time, thus a following reduction in my pay, and I could not afford this, on my tight budget. Besides, the doctors may not say this, but some of them do cherry-pick through every new client application form, which they have the potential client fill out, before selecting only the ones, with the least health issues, to deal with. Anyone experiencing any depression and anxiety issues, are located at the bottom of the pile, as far as, these doctors are concerned, thus, unacceptable as a client to take on.

Acting upon advice, given to me, by a friend, who is also Trans, I turned my attention towards Toronto, for a family doctor, to help in my transition and my general health. For several years, have passed, since the last time, I had a regular doctor look after me. Even this very act, would come back to haunt me, as I had to fight for any time off, for my medical appointments, at work. Never mind, I should have the nerve to ask them, for the ability to leave, after working my normal “eight” hour shift like everyone else did, to attend a twice a month support group for “male-to-female” transgendered people, in Toronto’s Gay Village. Honestly, by their reactions, you would have thought, I was holding a gun to their heads, by my simple request of working, just eight hours, to attend these Friday night meetings. Only to be grudgingly permitted to leave, after finishing my eight hours. Leaving me, with the slimy feeling of a second class slave, instead of, a valued employee that is willing to work the extra hours, when needed by the company.

I know, under Ontario labour law, the company can't force me, to work beyond my normal eight hour shift, but my refusing to do so, will result, in a very negative yearly review, which can and will cost me, any pay raise and promotions, should come available to me. And any protesting to the Labour Review Board, is signing my death warrant, as an employee at that company, and any other company that ask, why did I leave my last place of employment. A closely held fact, that's not talked about, but known among workers, who want to avoid the label of "trouble maker".

With each passing month, the situation grew worse for me, as I felt like their slow movement on my question, was designed to get me, to quit, or ask for my release, so that I could collect unemployment insurance, under false pretenses. As multiple crippling stress headaches, often lasting for several days attacked me, a by-product of the workplace and my living, a double life, outside of work. Further isolating myself, from any possible support, I might find at work, to moderate this.

Sadly, the one person, whom I did turn to, for support and guidance, got very religious and started quoting various Biblical passages to me, which he condemned me, for being, a Trans-lesbian. Even going, as far as, to give me, a New Testament, so I could discover "the errors" of my way and repent them. Boy, do I ever know how to pick them. Who needs enemies, when I have friends like this?

The months build up, until that fateful day, March 2, 2007, when I exploded and caught everyone by surprise, with my outburst of anger. Hey, a person can only be “shitted on” so much before there is a reaction to it. And given my tendency to bottle my emotions up, I am surprised that this didn’t happen at an earlier day, on my part. Or someone got hurt my outburst, as sometimes, it happens.

Will forever remember the moments around my quitting this particular job, for long as, I shall live. I had started to match the inbound receipts with the skids, checking to see, if the receiver had signed for the proper number of skids and from the right returnee. When I started to notice several skids were missing from the signed receipt invoices, which the trucking company uses. Stupid me, I approached the receiver, only to have him; verbally chew a new hole, in me. Freaking pompous jackass. Which point, I got into a heated argument with him, as he threatens to get physical with me, as I walked away.

In front of the supervisor's office, I tossed the inbound receipts into the air, in the classical Mary Tyler Moore's form, minus the pirouette, while announcing, "I quit" to the entire warehouse. Never felt a more liberating, or scarier moment, in my life, leaving a very ashen face supervisor looking at me. As he scrambled to fill a huge order of used flat screen Televisions and other electronics, for a customer, whom I normally did, thus short staffing the warehouse, by two employees, now. Myself, I had begun my exiting good-byes, with the staff that I felt comfortable around, before cleaning out my locker, for the last time. Good riddance, to bad rubbish.

I realize, now, this job was causing me, more harm than the pay cheque was worth it. Except, I wasn't smart enough to know this, until my health had been seriously compromised, as my emotional and physical health were on the verging of collapsing, for a few extra dollars that overtime had brought me. In my next job, I will fight for my rights, even if this means, I have to file grievances with the Labour Relations Board, thus means I poison my work relationship, in that environment. My health comes first!!