A month ago, I was moving from Minneapolis to Rochester to work at a store in which a family member is involved. The warning was the other partner was hard to work with and would grind you down if you let him.
He is a micromanager. He is an asshole. He is a bikeshedder.
In a month, he ground me down enough for me to explode at him. Merchandise was broken. I almost spent the night sleeping outside in 10°F weather.
Now I’m back in Minneapolis looking for a job to love, in which I at least have the freedom to sell the way I like to sell. To sharpen my skills and do what I love — working. Even dishwashing is a good job if you like to have people say “these are the cleanest dishes I’ve seen at a restaurant.” That’s what I want.
Sad part is, I saw what Rochester needs and wants and I think I would have been able to provide it, in time. Now I’m afraid I won’t ever have the chance.