Back to Work – And Then Back to Myself

 

Back to Work – And Then Back to Myself

There’s something comforting about walking back into work and being greeted by familiar faces. On my first day back, that’s exactly what happened—and honestly, it was just what I needed. Clients I had missed, friends I had missed more—it felt like coming home in a way.

That first day back? It was actually fine. I was surrounded by people I genuinely liked, doing what I loved. I thought, This is where I’m meant to be.

And for a while, it was.

But, as with many jobs, things began to change. At first slowly, then all at once. Managers came and went, and the workplace atmosphere began to shift. It just wasn’t what it used to be.

Then came a manager who didn’t even come from our side of the industry. She had never done nails, never trained in it, and yet, there she was—leading a nail team. From the beginning, I had questions. How can someone manage work they’ve never done? How do you support a team when you don’t understand the craft?

What made it harder was that I had actually liked her before she took the role. I really thought we could make it work. But as her authority grew, so did the tension.

There was one thing that really hit home for me. A colleague and I used to handle the trade tests for new hires. We’d ask candidates to paint one dark nail, one red, and one French. We took pride in assessing their skill. It was our little ritual—part of what made our role feel meaningful.

And then, out of the blue, she announced that she’d be taking that over. I remember saying, “You don’t even do nails. How can you judge someone’s work if you’re not qualified?” It wasn’t rude—it was real. But of course, that didn’t go down well.

From there, things got worse.

The atmosphere at the nail bar started to feel heavy. I tried to push through. I really did. But the days became longer, the arguments more frequent, and honestly—what I can only describe as bullying started.

Lunch breaks were moved to suit her, sometimes just an hour into my shift, leaving me working through the rest of the day and into the night with no real break. There was no regard for my time or wellbeing. Just control. And slowly, it wore me down.

I started going home in tears. I felt drained. Unseen. Unappreciated. And completely exhausted. That’s when I realised: this wasn’t just a rough patch. It was a toxic environment.

Eventually, I hit my limit. Enough was enough.

I handed in my notice—and this time, it was final. No return. It was the hardest decision, but the right one. The moment I walked away, I felt relief. And I wasn’t the only one feeling the tension—others had gone quiet too, withdrawing into themselves. It’s sad, but that’s how things go sometimes.