Today I come bearing terrible news: my temper might’ve earned me another uprooting in my career. I’ll start from the beginning.
Over the millennia, I’ve come and gone from many a job, like the tide comes and goes with the sea. I arrive with force, eager to meet my colleagues and excited to absorb all the knowledge that I can. But in my wake I leave devastation, ripping myself away and back into the expanse of the tumultuous ocean until another position catches my eye.
This job was unlike any other I’d ever seen. The best of mortals place a high value on what they term “giving back,” and this position did just that: working for youth to better their education. I applied, I was hired.
Unlike the other jobs that I had stormed through in months, this one kept.
Until he arrived.
At first, he seemed harmless. He came to the program with the same ambition and kind heart that many of us shared, but with unmatched positivity. In all the best ways, he reminded me of my father, Hēlios, the way he brightened the office and our approach to our mission. When he was promoted to our supervisor, despite being with us for only a few months, I was optimistic that he could lead our team toward our goals and help the mortal students we serve to achieve higher educational standards.
But much like Hēlios, there is a raw energy within him, one that seeks more power, worship, and obedience.
It started with small changes, restricting certain aspects of program funding, limiting the services we provide. He proclaimed his goal was bringing us focus, but it started to seem like his only purpose was to create and enact his own his own autocratic vision.
After the programmatic changes, he started in on our staff. I’d rather not go into the details because it’s not about what he does, but how. This world has seen its fair share of dictators over the years and this mortal man has all of the makings of one. Behind every charismatic smile, there is judgment and conniving. No mistake goes unscrutinized, and my colleagues now quake with fear at the mere thought of incurring his wrath.
I say my colleagues, omitting myself, because I of course do not fear this man. In place of fear, hatred for this mortal has festered inside me.
And today—oh, today—I lost it.
Today he said I had crossed a line in advocating for my maternity rights. He said he deserved to be spoken to with respect. He said that I should have more dignity in the way I carry myself in a professional setting.
I felt the grooves of my trusted wand in hand only after I saw him writhing on the floor, finally the snake he really is. I picked the fragile creature up and placed him outside, the secret of his transmogrification kept between us.
I do not regret my choice. A woman who has been working with the program for five years will take his place and I believe she will hold true to the mission of the work. But I am sorry to go, and go I must. My disdain for my snake-boss was no secret, and once alarm is raised regarding his disappearance, I should be far away.
It is a shame. I would’ve liked to help those mortal children. Maybe in my next adventure in employment.
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