When my boss demanded I babysit her kids or face firing, she thought she held all the power. Instead, her ultimatum became her downfall and my stepping stone. I’m Jessica, 27, and this is how I reclaimed my career from her overreach.
Work has always been my passion. In college, I hustled through jobs while peers partied, landing a marketing assistant role at a Houston real estate firm post-graduation. I loved the teamwork until Diane took over as boss six months ago. Diane, with her sleek SUV and “empowered leader” vibe, seemed inspiring. She commanded meetings with charm and praised me early on. “Jessica, you’re so on top of things,” she’d say, making me feel valued after my prior boss’s neglect. Her warmth drew me in, but it soon turned sour.
Diane began unloading personal woes, detailing her ugly divorce from her ex, Greg, who betrayed her, and their battle over their two daughters. “He wants more time with them, but they’re mine,” she’d say, lingering at my desk. During a team call, her girls, around eight and ten, bickered onscreen, prompting Diane to slam Greg publicly. She accidentally copied me on legal emails, exposing her tactics to restrict his custody. I sympathized, assuming her stress would pass, but her demands grew. “Jessica, drop off my shoes at the shop,” she’d ask, then, “Schedule my daughter’s haircut.” I obliged, thinking it was temporary.
Her requests escalated—late-night work emails, early tasks for her oversights. “You’re my rock!” she’d gush, overloading me. When I said, “I’m here for marketing, not personal errands,” she scoffed. “A happy boss keeps the team strong.” Then she dropped her demand: “Babysit my girls tonight for my date, or you’re done.” Her threat was clear, but I’d secured a new job that morning with better pay and respect. Smiling, I agreed, plotting my move. At her house, her daughters, Ava and Zoe, were kind, watching movies. Diane left instructions and bolted.
After 15 minutes, I texted: “Thanks for tonight. I’m starting a new job and gave notice. Greg’s getting the girls.” I left a note: “You demanded a servant, not an assistant. Good luck.” Greg arrived, relieved, saying, “Diane keeps them from me.” The girls ran to him, smiling. Diane’s frantic calls came; I blocked her. My new job welcomed me as a professional, not a lackey. Diane’s power play failed, but it empowered me to choose a career where I’m truly valued.
