What Getting Fired For Being an Introvert Taught Me
There are beautiful things about being introverted. Just because introverts don’t express or share that beauty with everyone, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.
It was my first time being terminated from a job. I was working in a restaurant in my hometown not too long ago and it sucked. As a newbie to the restaurant industry, my first week of training was rough. I was thrown into working “front of the house,” where I was expected to provide a brilliant experience for the customers in hopes they’d say, “Gosh! That young woman wowed me with her service, I’ll be back here to spend my hard-earned money on food that’ll go straight to my hips!” My superiors expected me to socialize (cue the horror music), collect dirty plates and empty cups, refill water, deliver scalding and heavy bowls of food with both hands. All I remember thinking is, “What if I drop these bowls and the sound of the shattering glass causes everyone to look at me in shock and disapproval?” As an introvert that also experiences (social) anxiety, working in a restaurant was rather excruciating, but I pushed myself by telling myself that no one was thinking about me as much as I was thinking about me. All I had to do was get through the four to six hours I was working a day; then I could retreat to my “woman cave,” and be at peace.
The rushes were the worst. The restaurant would fill up so quickly that it left me breathless. I constantly yearned to escape. In fact, during my first night shift, I contemplated walking out and quitting, but didn’t; convincing myself that it would be f***ed up to desert my coworkers during a peak hour. During the rushes, the managers watched us as if to devour us whole if we made any mistakes or displeased a customer. They were tough, aggressive, ruthless, and even resorted to shit-talking us. Their voices would become strained and their faces would shrivel if anyone made a mistake such as dropping food off at the wrong table, missing something from a takeout order, or if anyone was “standing around,” and not finding something tedious to do to fulfill the standard of “working hard.” I would often retreat to the bathroom to soothe my distressed brain. After splashing cold water on my face, I’d take a hit of my vape, or cancer stick as my boyfriend calls it, and text him about how overwhelmed I was. He’d send me voice memos of his deep breathing to remind me to breathe, to be in the moment, and remember “I got this.” I’d cram my phone in my back pocket, take one last deep breath, and make my way back onto the floor with the rest of my coworkers.
Training over the next couple of weeks was exhausting and I clocked out of most of my shifts with my entire body aching from internalizing the stress of the environment. I felt mocked and judged by coworkers for being new and they found my introversion otherworldly. Despite all of this, I kept pushing myself. Towards my soon-to-be last week at the restaurant, the anxiety I experienced was beginning to diminish. I felt more comfortable socializing and dropping off food even when the temperature of the bowls burned my fingers. I took pride in my fingers burning, in pushing myself to socialize, and acting like I genuinely cared about how a stranger’s day was. I was progressing and pushing myself to do something I’d never done and never thought I would do, I found more joy in that than the job itself. I created my purpose. I even invested in buying a pair of cute non-slip shoes for the sole purpose of working in this restaurant and “cute,” non-slip shoes are hard to come by.
It was 3:45 P.M. on my last day and one of my managers told me we’d go downstairs to have a chat. I figured she’d ask me how I was feeling about the job since I first started, what I thought I could improve on, what my goals were, but that wasn’t the case at all. “Have a seat,” is what she told me and I did, with a smile. It wasn’t until mid-conversation that I realized I was getting fired. Suddenly I felt as though someone had punched me in the gut. When my manager finished telling me I was fired, I smiled a painful smile and said, “Thank you.” Despite how insulted I felt by the things she said to me, not about my work ethic or my progression but my personality, I picked up my things and walked out of there grateful for the experience. I refused to go out a sore loser, I’ve always been the kind of person to take the good from everything and everyone. Despite my optimism, that same night and the next day, I cried heavy cries. My mother hugged me and told me that everything would be okay, I’d soon find another job.
The experience of getting fired stuck with me for a while. I found myself questioning my personality and giving myself hatred for the fact that I couldn’t fit in with others or be what they expected me to be. I reconciled with a younger version of myself that hated herself for being introverted and thought it held her back from all of the great things others got to experience. I reminisced on all of the hurtful things others once said to me,
“You need to come out of your shell.” “So and so thinks you don’t like them because you’re so quiet.” “It seems like you have an attitude.” “You’re boring.” “You need social skills to advance in any area of life, you’re always going to be dealing with people.” “Do you ever talk?”
My self-esteem was shot and I felt knocked down, not by my inability to do a job well, but by my natural personality.
Many times, in the workplace, I’d convince myself to be someone other than who I was, not for the love of the job, but to make ends meet. I tried to be enthusiastic, outgoing, loud, but I was never good at being anything other than myself. It’s been a couple of weeks since I got fired and I’ve started to feel better, recognizing that I don’t have to try so hard to fit myself into spaces or with people that I just don’t fit with. It’s okay for me to not fit in or be what others expect me to be. Despite the hurtful comments others have made about me or towards me throughout my twenty-two years, I began to be flattered that others were so fascinated with my reservation or ability to be alone. I don’t consider it a bad thing as much as others have attempted to make me feel it is.
People equate introversion to lacking in personality and that’s not at all the case. I love coming home after a long day and turning my phone off to be alone, dancing in my underwear to songs from the early 2000s, smoking mary jane with friends to Beach House, and writing poems about what it means to savor my experiences of love. I find more joy in watching sunsets at the beach than I do at parties. I enjoy belting out with Eddie Vedder on the song “Black,” and sharing laughter with those close to me. I love interacting with people, just for a limited amount of time. Being an introvert allows me to know how to balance myself and my time. It allows me to be more aware of myself, my emotions, and of others.
Introversion has its advantages in the way the majority of us are great listeners and can catch what other people are saying when they’re not saying it, for better or worse. We know how to ask thought-provoking questions that go beyond the surface. Introverts know how to slow down in a world that is always telling us we have to move. We know how and when to be silent when the world tells us we need to be loud all of the time. I am loud in a lot of ways that don’t require me to use my voice. I am loud with my writing, my fashion choices, the way I wear my hair, my laughter, in the art I create, with the way I express love to others, and these are all beautiful things to me. As an introvert, to be of the world rather than in it is being ahead of the world. There are beautiful things about being introverted. Just because introverts don’t express or share that beauty with everyone, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.
I’m happy I got fired from that restaurant, I consider it a blessing in disguise to know that that place wasn’t for me, but many places in the world are; I just have to find them. There are many places and people that won’t judge me so harshly but will value all that I bring to the table. For every person that chooses to miss out on me due to their bias, judgments, or perceptions, there will be someone else that finds beauty in all that I am. As an introvert, my personality is a kaleidoscope of colors despite who cannot see them, and no longer will I allow the world to make me feel less than.
Thank you for reading,
DeAja Chanice
