Gossip, Glass Ceilings, and Grit: My Journey in Corporate Retail

    I’ve been wanting to start a blog for a while — a space where I could open up about my personal journey working in corporate America while navigating my educational path in Industrial-Organizational Psychology. So here it is. If you’ve ever felt overlooked, overworked, or just plain invisible at your job, this one’s for you.

    I’ve worked at a major corporate pet retailer for the past nine years. Despite my background as a veterinary technician and previous leadership experience in other industries, I’ve experienced very little advancement. I started this job part-time when the store first opened in my town. I was just beginning college, later in life, at age 31, and the flexibility fit my schedule. Within six months, I was promoted to Animal Department Manager. I was proud and motivated.

    Let me give you a visual: our department handles a lot. There are seven freshwater aquatic systems (three rows each, plus sumps), two saltwater systems, and three 60-gallon tanks for koi, turtles, and plants — all with their own filtration systems. Additionally, we care for 20 reptile cages, 18 small animal habitats, a ferret enclosure, and a large bird habitat. Each area has its own deep-cleaning routine: reptiles can take up to 6 hours, small animals 4 hours, and aquatics is broken down over five days.

    When I took over, I was told there weren’t enough labor hours to schedule a dedicated cleaner, so I had to manage the animals and do all the cleaning myself. Meanwhile, the male assistant manager spent his days chatting with the general manager about football, going out for lunch, and clocking out early, yet still receiving full pay for his days. Eventually, I lost my aquatics specialist, so I had to handle it all: aquatics, animals, leadership, and even truck shipments.

    One day, I had a grand mal seizure at work due to a medical condition. I was found unconscious on the backroom floor, covered in blood, disoriented, trying to get up. I somehow made it to the office and called my husband, who rushed me to the hospital. I had another seizure once we arrived. My injuries were extensive — broken tooth, stitches in my chin, swollen eyes, cuts, and bruises everywhere. Not a single manager checked on me. The next day, I was pressured to return to work or face termination, despite having a doctor’s note. I walked in with black eyes, barely able to see, and had to clean my own blood from the floor. No one had filed an incident report.

    A few months later, my younger brother was in a horrific car accident out of state. He was airlifted to the hospital with a brain bleed and life-threatening pressure in his skull. We thought he was going to die. My family rushed to his side, but at work, I was treated like my pain didn’t matter. When my father died of COVID, I clocked in the next day after planning his funeral. Meanwhile, the same manager took multiple days off to mourn the loss of his dog.

    Still, I stayed loyal. When COVID hit, the assistant manager role was removed from our store, and I stepped up to help the general manager run operations. We transformed our store, improved our metrics, and earned a company-wide award. We even moved up in our assortment code, which was a big deal. But just when it seemed like progress was possible, things took a political turn.

    Our district manager, who has had an obvious issue with my general manager for years, started visiting more often, nitpicking everything. He was aware that I had taken on many responsibilities when the assistant manager was let go, including payroll, scheduling, ordering, training, and performance metrics. Yet, he made me audition for the promotion when the role reopened. I created a comprehensive spreadsheet that tracks employee performance by key metrics. What was supposed to be a one-month trial turned into nearly four months. Only after they found out I had a job offer elsewhere did I receive the promotion.

    And now, the cycle repeats. My general manager was relocated, and in his place, they brought in a younger, less experienced woman who’s already alienating the team. I support women in leadership — absolutely. But this isn’t leadership. She barks orders from the office, talks down to the team, and on her second day, accused the only Black employee of stealing and told another to “speak English or I won’t talk to you.” I don’t stand for that. That’s not who I am.

    I’m tired. I’m forty, educated, and experienced. I’ve paid my dues. I’ve worked through personal tragedy, medical trauma, and corporate politics. I’ve shown up even when it hurt. And still, I’m overlooked while others — often younger, less experienced, or male — receive the credit, promotions, and support.

    But tomorrow’s a new day. I’ll keep showing up, not because this place deserves me, but because I deserve to finish what I started. I’m building my voice as a future I/O psychologist, and one day I hope to help transform toxic systems like the one I’ve survived.

    Thanks for listening. If you’ve been through something similar, know that you’re not alone — and your story matters, too.