To a lady I worked for,
I was young. You were middle-aged. You were disabled. I was abled.
When I met you, my first impressions were; you were rude and had a chip on your shoulder. You offered me a job. I had my reservations. I was a student at university, desperate for extra cash. I told myself you wouldn’t effect me, your rudeness wouldn’t get to me.
It got to me.
It got to my self-confidence. Everything I did, you told me I did it wrong. You shouted at me, when I was only doing my best. You bullied me, belittled me and attempted to manipulate me.
You went days without speaking to me, would turn the other way when I looked at you and sigh and roll your eyes whenever I spoke to you.
Every day, riding to work on the bus, I felt anxious.
In the four months I worked for you, you never said anything positive to me. The insults and criticisms were countless.
I just wanted you to know, I forgive you. I forgive you, not because you deserve it, but because I deserve it.
All the best to you, wherever you are these days.