The Journey
In 2020, I found myself standing at a pivotal crossroads. Despite having achieved several professional milestones - from working as an engineer in a manufacturing facility to becoming a safety manager at a large integrated facilities management company, I was haunted by a profound sense of confusion that lingered beneath the surface.
Navigating the complexities of management in the midst of a pandemic, I grappled with unfamiliar behaviors in a male-dominated landscape of facilities and capital project management. It quickly became apparent that the environment surrounding me was misaligned with my core values.
The weight of this dissonance manifested in an all-too-familiar dread I came to know as the “scary Sundays.” It was difficult to swallow the indifference in colleagues' voices, the brusque responses from colleagues, and the mistreatment I witnessed from management. I felt an acute sense of not belonging.
The challenge wasn’t solely the work itself. Although I was surrounded by some of the most intelligent and compassionate project managers I had ever met, I struggled deeply with the disconnect between what was expected on paper and the reality I experienced. To compound my distress, I felt a resurgence of the alienation I had felt as an immigrant in 2001. Once again I was the outsider.
I confided in my manager about my struggles, yet I wish I had articulated my feelings more vividly - not just the details of my interactions with colleagues, but the visceral sensations I experienced within my own body.
Ultimately, the situation became unbearable, leading me to resign after six months. I believed I had liberated myself from such toxic environments, only to receive a call from a former colleague inviting me back. Reluctantly, I accepted the offer, enticed by the promise of change.
What troubled me most was the nagging sensation that I was compromising my worth. I felt increasingly like a fish out of water, struggling to cultivate relationships in an environment devoid of emotional connection.
Eventually, I had to confront the truth: I had no desire to supervise contractors, work within generator enclosures, or ascend rooftops. I was disinterested in overseeing crane lifts or reminding adults to don hard hats for their safety, or enforcing protocols on engineers who arrived without the necessary permits.
I have immense respect for safety managers, who bear the heavy responsibility of ensuring workplace safety. They strive to identify and rectify unsafe conditions, often aware of the risks yet compelled by workers’ schedules, priorities or choices to overlook them temporarily. This created an uncomfortable dynamic for me, as I felt the burden of enforcing protocols when I knew the issue wasn’t a lack of knowledge; many were aware of their risky behaviors, believing they were taking calculated chances.
Human nature often reacts defensively when confronted with our missteps. The annoyance and embarrassment we feel can make us want to dismiss the issue as quickly as possible. Yet safety professionals extend these moments of discomfort, formalizing them with documentation and oversight, which can be quite disheartening.
When I ultimately left my corporate position, I carried with me the bittersweet knowledge that I had forged meaningful relationships with some, while leaving behind deep scars with others. Yet, I emerged on the other side, stepping into a career filled with love, acceptance, abundance, and joy; as well as boundless opportunities for growth and fulfillment.
Warmly,
Carolline
