Flashbacks

Yesterday was one of those rare days of overtime in my new (well, more than a year now) smaller agency. Have gotten use to working only 40 hours a week compared to my prior large agency where if I only worked 45 hours a week it was a light week.

I took a walk during my break and saw a former co-worker from the other agency. She was one of the "B's" who if they didn't like you would make fun of you. It was her sister who was the major "B" who created such drama inside the dispatch center that I changed shifts and days off to attempt to have as little cross over shift work with her as possible.

I had filed a couple complaints against the major "B" on harassment and of course, nothing was truly done. Accountability from co-workers and supervisors will be a point of discussion another time.

The rest of my day was a "roll tape" of memories of my years with the larger agency. Some of the good times, but mostly of the harassment and pokes received from some of the "B's" of the larger agency.

They ran the dispatcher center. If you weren't part of the inner circle, nothing you did was acceptable, they would yell at you across the room with dumb ass questions, sabotage your calls with incomplete information when working the radio, refuse to take their share of phone call traffic, take longer than scheduled breaks, etc.

All day was a constant poke of yet another memory of their subtle, and not so subtle, attempts at breaking me and embarrassing me. I could not shake them out of my head, no matter what I tried. And my sleep was another run of dreams involving them and supervisors. Even in my dreams they were getting away from being held responsible for their actions.

I found out the sister I saw and the major "B" sister both took "stress" early retirements! WHAT?!?!?!?! They were the cause of sooooo much stress and drama in the dispatch center and they got stressed out enough to be medically retired?!?!?!?

I knew I was getting truly stressed out. I was getting to the end of my mental health rope. Ready to explode, yell, scream, cuss, deep sarcasm. Even get physical with at least one dispatcher. I knew I was getting bad, barely balancing on the edge, so I, like a responsible adult, decided I needed to leave and sought other employment. It meant a loss of pay, but I wouldn't end up fired or in jail, which neither included a paycheck.

And they got stress medical retirement??!??!??!

And more than a year later I am still getting flashbacks and stomach aches and losing sleep and nausea from memories of my time spent locked up with them in a windowless basement for over eight years.

And they are getting tax free medical retirement monies and getting their educations on my tax dollar?? Hell No. Where can I file for a review of their files? Who do I contact for a tax audit for them? How come they aren't being held accountable for their actions? UGH