As told to Ann DeGrey
I still remember the day I first met Rachel. We were both in our late-20s, full of energy, working side by side in a bustling office where we quickly became great friends. It was one of those rare connections where you just click, sharing lunch breaks, inside jokes, and the occasional late night at the office. We saw each other socially on a regular basis and got to know each other’s partners. I'd say she was definitely one of my best friends.
When I decided to step away from my job to be with my kids, Rachel was one of the first people I told. She seemed to be genuinely happy for me and she promised to keep in touch. But, as my little family grew, I rarely heard from her. I wasn't worried, though. I always thought that when I returned to work, we'd pick up right where we left off. When I did hear from her, it was to tell me that she'd been promoted and, when I returned, she'd be my superior. I congratulated her and thought it was a great thing that she'd be my boss.
But when I returned to work, I was horrified at the huge personality change in Rachel. It quickly became clear that the power had gone to her head.
The first few weeks back were tough. I was rusty, trying to catch up on all the changes that had happened while I was away. Rachel didn't make it any easier. Instead of offering me support, she assigned me menial tasks far below my experience level — filing, data entry, even making coffee for meetings. I thought maybe she was just being kind, easing me back into the job.
She started criticising everything I did. She'd find the tiniest mistakes and blow them out of proportion, often having a rant about me in front of our colleagues.
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"You clearly have 'baby brain'," she said when pointing out a minor mistake. Her words stung, but the public humiliation was even worse. I could see my colleagues looking at me with pity, but nobody spoke up to defend me. I figured, they were probably all scared of her now.
I started to dread going to work. Every morning, I would feel a knot in my stomach, knowing that another day of belittlement awaited me. Rachel would call impromptu meetings, only to use them as opportunities to berate my performance in front of others. "If you can't keep up, maybe this isn't the right place for you anymore,"she said.
I tried talking to her, hoping to remind her of our past friendship, but she was rude and dismissive, insisting that it was "just business." But it didn't feel like business — it felt personal. I was being singled out, treated as if I were an inconvenience. The worst part was that Rachel seemed to enjoy it, as if putting me down gave her a twisted sense of satisfaction.
I started doubting my abilities, questioning whether I was as incompetent as Rachel made me feel. Her behaviour has become increasingly spiteful. She'd assign tasks that are not only beneath my skill level but also deliberately time-consuming, making it impossible for me to meet deadlines.
One day, she handed me a stack of documents to shred, mumbling something about it being as much responsibility as I could handle. I also overheard her telling another colleague I'd changed since becoming a mum and "not in a good way".
The constant digs have created a toxic environment where I'm constantly on edge, wondering what she'll do next to undermine me.
It wasn't long before my colleagues noticed the way Rachel was treating me. Some of them even went to Human Resources to file complaints on my behalf.
HR eventually called me in for a meeting, and I poured my heart out, telling them everything that had happened since my return. They promised to look into it, but I knew that nothing would change. Rachel was too powerful. She had the upper hand, and I was just a lowly employee.
I can't keep doing this. I can't keep waking up every morning, dreading the day ahead, knowing that I'll be torn down and humiliated by someone who was once my friend. I've started looking for work elsewhere, hoping to find a place where I can feel valued again, where I won't be constantly looking over my shoulder, waiting for the next blow to fall.
It breaks my heart to leave a job I once loved, but I know I have no other choice.
Feature Image: Getty.