We Tell Women to Leave Toxic Men. Why Not Toxic Jobs?

Lindsay Nehrer
1 day ago
6 min read

I was 23 and driving through the streets of San Diego. I had to solicit fifty doors of small businesses before I could return to the office, where I’d have the business cards I’d collected counted by my manager.

I pulled over around 4 p.m. and called my dad, crying. I only had 30 cards and had basically hit every open business in the area. As instructed, I’d park on one end and walk to the other, in heels at that. I was exhausted. It was my first job out of college. Trying to make it on my own with my own expenses and bank account for the first time meant the pressure was on.

On the weekends, everyone at work would party hard together. We were stretched so thin and were so stressed that we resorted to the motto “work hard, play harder.” I’d go into my office still drunk from the night before, and my manager would be snorting lines off his desk.

You were congratulated one day and fired the next. Every month, there was a training class for newbies. All of us are excited to wear our first suits and perform our most professional selves. We would have done almost anything to succeed, and it still wouldn’t have been enough.

Constant rejection through the day from customers out in the field was usually met with some sort of talking to or pessimistic pep talk upon your return. I gotta admit, I got thick skin for sure, just not sure it was worth the cost to my psyche.

Most of my twenties and half of my thirties would be spent in constant fight or flight. Being in sales, you were only as good as your last month. And if your last month was good, you could probably guess your next one wouldn’t be. Never being able to exhale, or afford a home for fear of unreliable income, put incredible stress on a twenty-something-year-old single female. I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone. Not to mention all the “boys club” tactics and competition among coworkers, some of it sexist, and some of it just morally deficient in the eyes of anyone.

I reflect on those years often. I work now for a great company that I’ve been at for more than three years, and an industry I’ve been in for seven, and I finally feel like I can breathe. I work somewhere where I’m respected. They see my worth and value, and I now have a manager who actually asks about my personal life and wants to schedule quarterly meetings to make sure I’m getting what I need the majority of the time. I feel truly blessed.

But I often think, would I have done anything differently if I had to do it again? Or did all those years of struggle lead me to this place of peace I’m finally at now? And did I have to endure twelve years of strife just to feel happy and secure? Is that what’s expected of us? Is that the norm? I’m not sure, but I wrestle with questions like this all the time.

As I sat in the theatre watching The Devil Wears Prada 2, I reflected on the same questions. Andy, this conscientious and optimistic-to-a-fault main character, finds herself once again working for an old, toxic boss in exchange for a bigger paycheck. Her boss has proven to have questionable morals and loyalty, but Andy is somehow excited for more. Only to find out she’d still be in a working relationship with an old, just-as-toxic coworker.

Both coworker and boss have humiliated Andy and rejected her bids for connection on numerous occasions, but in DWP 2, we see Andy constantly struggling to please these two, only to be betrayed once again. The movie ends with her having lunch with the woman who just betrayed her, and they act as though almost nothing had happened between them.

I immediately thought to myself: Andy has no boundaries. She is trying so hard to earn these people’s respect and love, and they continually reject her. It’s sad, really, maybe because I’ve been Andy at several points in my life, both professionally and personally.

Which brings me to further questions about society and professionalism. Why do ambitious systems so often reward emotional disconnection and moral compromise? Does that say something about our culture? Does this imply that enduring emotionally corrosive environments is simply the price of ambition?

Taking it back a moment, to when Andy sits down to lunch with Emily, who just deeply betrayed her and almost cost her her job, and starts drowning her in compliments. What a bizarre encounter, and why should a woman betray herself and her boundaries to do this? This person, although having some endearing qualities, has proven time and time again not to respect the friendship with Andy, and yet Andy is consistently loyal through it all, hoping it will eventually win Emily over because of what? Shared history?

What does this teach women about relationships both in and outside the work environment? Yes, loyalty and respect are indeed great values to have, but should we be doling them out to everyone? Most psychologists and professionals, I think, would disagree.

Why do intelligent people keep chasing emotionally unavailable systems and people? Maybe it starts at home, maybe it starts on the playground, or maybe we are shaped by movies, music and media. By the time we reach the workplace, it’s an ingrained response. This idea that we must suffer along the way is often romanticized and promoted. By the time we enter the workforce, we are conditioned to work more hours, maybe for less, and face consistent, emotionally and psychologically draining situations. Simultaneously, is the corporate world exploiting this and capitalizing on young, hungry worker bees?

On a more personal level, I reflect on my twenties sometimes and the instability and chaos my career brought to my life. Yes, a lot of people could empathize that their twenties are “supposed” to be that way, but are they really? My parents got married at 21 and shared finances and a home throughout their twenties.

Reflecting on my singleness now at 42, I often wonder what the prolonged instability does to people emotionally and relationally. The chaos of my situation kept me highly inept at giving depth to much else. I live a life a lot of people would dream of, and I’m grateful every day for how God has turned things in my favor. It’s just different from the life I grew up dreaming about.

Today, I mentor a group of sixteen-year-olds, and so I’m constantly battling in my head the advice that I would give them as a professional woman. I’m caught between teaching them to be resilient while also teaching them to feel emotionally safe and not betray themselves.

So, does that mean finding a job and career that recognizes your value as a person, respects you and challenges you? And continuing to move until you find it? Or does it mean proving your worth and loyalty over and over and over again until someone eventually sees your value, because you have to put your time in?

When we talk about choosing a life partner, we encourage young people to look for someone trustworthy, respectful, and committed to helping them grow. We don't tell them to stay in relationships that require them to continually prove their worth in hopes that they'll eventually be valued. Why should we think so differently about the places where we'll spend most of our waking hours?

You have to get to know yourself, your strengths and be able to communicate what you bring to the table, and only experience will teach you that. You may have to put up with many difficult people along the way, but it will all be worth it. Or will it?

I guess that’s for each person to decide. I also think it’s important to mention that a lot of women don’t have a choice these days. They may dream of marriage and family, too, as I did, but go steadfast into career mode because how else were we going to survive if we didn’t find a partner at 21? Many women would not choose this, but society chose for us.

All we can do is shed light on these issues along the way so that people can be more conscious and make decisions for their futures with open eyes. I think it is deeply important to learn resilience in your early years, along with discernment and boundaries.

I once saw this meme that said learn when to leave: the party, the job, the relationship, all of it. And it resonates because we often stay in things too long, and maybe the younger generations have overcorrected, but for those who aren’t sure, it’s important to consider. At what point does resilience stop building character and start diminishing a person?