Recently I read that Abe Lincoln would write letters and put then away when he was angry with people. It sounded like a good idea so here we are…
Dear Supervisor of My Supervisor’s Supervisor,
Let me acknowledge this right away: we have too many supervisors. My supervisor doesn’t need a supervisor who is being supervised. In fact, you could cut out the two middlemen and talk directly to me, human to human. The money saved might even help a few of us stop living paycheck to paycheck.
Speaking of paycheck to paycheck—that’s my technique. I pay my bills, buy groceries, and then go on lockdown. How about you? Got any advice for stretching a paycheck?
I tried the whole “getting a promotion” thing. That didn’t work out. You told me yourself, point blank, that you made sure I didn’t get the job I interviewed for. If I remember correctly, you said something about how you thought I wouldn’t want it.
All this time, I thought the department I interviewed with didn’t think my skills were adequate. Turns out, they fought to have me—and you steamrolled that idea. Why? And don’t give me that “it’s in your best interest” bullshit.
Listen, when you’re making a couple hundred thousand dollars a year, an extra four bucks an hour might not sound like much. But for me, it would’ve been life-changing.
I bring home twelve grand a year after Uncle Sam, insurance, and “benefits” take their cut. How much do you gross? How much did your Mercedes set you back? Or your new Lexus? I guess an extra four bucks an hour doesn’t mean much to you.
I’ve been here 20 years—and that’s on me. I’ve tried and tried to claw my way into a different position. My biggest mistake in life might’ve been taking this job. At first, it seemed great. It paid for my education, the money was good for the area, and there was promise of a pension. Now, twenty years later? Still living paycheck to paycheck.
They didn’t tell me this role came with the mark of death. Put it on a résumé and sure, you might get a call back. But when you interview, it’s always the same:
“Why don’t you stay in your current field?”
Then when you apply within that same field:
“Why don’t you try for that other job that turned you down?”
It’s like living in limbo.
Why did you do it? I should’ve had an actual job title by now—not just some generic buzzwords on paper. Assistant to the assistant’s assistant. I can’t help but wonder how many jobs I’ve been turned down for because of situations like this.
I even stopped applying for new roles after that last one—I thought I finally took the hint. But turns out, I was wrong about that too. I had the job. You said no for me.
At what point did that stop being my decision?
I think you realized you said too much when the color drained from my face yesterday. I kind of hope you’ve thought about it as much as I have over the past 24 hours.
I hope you understand that you had the power to help someone better themselves and their life—and instead, you chose to hold them back. The end game was never just that job. It was the job after that… or the one after that. I wanted to be the supervisor to the supervisor’s supervisor one day.
Wallowing in Defeat,
Blah Blah Blah, Assistant to the Assistant’s Assistant
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