When I was browsing my phone, I suddenly saw a passage: "If you are a leader, never scold those young subordinates in their 20s, they will leave. But for those middle-aged subordinates who have houses and children, you can scold them as hard as you can. Donât dare to leave casually.â
Hey, feel hurt by a joke? Middle-aged people who live worse than dogs.
On a not-so-sunny noon, I listened to the stories of four working mothers. Their lives were more heartbreaking than the jokes.
On the 13th hour of continuous overtime work, the moment I heard my son cry, I completely collapsed...
I changed my position.
company will lay off 25% of its employees this year, the highest level in three years. I, a working mother who had just finished breastfeeding and needed to take leave from time to time because her child was sick, was included in the layoff list. I think such a decision only took the leader less than 0.1 seconds of thinking time. When
received the notice, I had only two choices, one was to leave with compensation, and the other was to change positions.
I am 30 years old, have a family, and have children, but I donât have the courage to say anything naked. I chose the latter when I was struggling with my career, and moved to the position that was perhaps the most workload-saturated in the company. I worked from 8 a.m. to 7 p.m. without stopping at all to barely finish the day's work. When on duty, you also need to finish the work of other colleagues.
On a certain weekend when I was on duty, I hid in the study at six o'clock and started working for nearly 13 hours. My son, who was less than 2 years old, knocked gently on the door and called "Mom" over and over again. I pretended that no one was in the room and lowered the sound of typing on the keyboard, but I didn't dare to stop, because as soon as I stopped, that day There is a high probability that the work will not be completed. My son knocked for half an hour. Maybe he was tired or maybe he believed that I was not at home, so he finally stopped.
At 7:30 in the evening, it is the time I usually get home, but only 80% of the work at hand is completed. I am already dizzy. My son is waiting for me to appear at the door, crying and calling his mother, listening to him cry. It was so heartbreaking that I finally couldn't help crying. The emotions accumulated throughout the day completely exploded, and I collapsed completely. Tears fell heavily on the computer keyboard, but I still managed not to cry.
then what?
wipe away the tears and continue to finish the remaining work. I have no other choice.
Lifting up her clothes to breastfeed in public while finishing a 30-page PPT
I am very conservative.
Before, I didn't even dare to wear backless clothes, and I never thought that I would lift up my clothes to breastfeed in public, but it really happened.
On that day, I took a few days off to take my one-and-a-half-year-old daughter back to my hometown, a 4-hour trip by high-speed rail. Not long after the train set off, I received a call from my boss asking me to rush out a PPT. The phone sounded intermittent, but I could tell it was urgent.
In order to get back to work as soon as possible and prevent my daughter from running around when I was working, I carried her on my chest with a sling in an attempt to coax her to sleep quickly. The moment I carried her on my back, the girl suddenly started crying and scratching her hard. The clothes on my chest make me want to drink milk before I fall asleep.
At that moment, I was so anxious that I lost my patience to coax her and ignored all the eyes. I randomly grabbed a piece of clothing from my luggage bag and put it on my body. I lifted the clothing to feed my daughter milk. Along the way, my daughter fell asleep sweetly after a hearty meal, while I kept maintaining the same posture and finished a 30-page ppt on the high-speed train that took three hours.
arrived at the destination, connected to a stable network, sent the PPT to the leader, gently put the child down, straightened the clothes that had been half lifted along the way, and at that moment, I felt like crying.
My son thought that as long as he counted from 1 to 9, I would appear. That day, he counted 1 to 9 100 times...
My son just learned to count and could count from 1 to 9.
In order to encourage him to count, during a hide-and-seek game, his father told him that if he counted from 1 to 9, his mother would appear. We did not expect that after just such a game, our son would think that as long as he did not see me, he would count from 1 to 9 and I would appear.
That day, I got up at four in the morning to work on a project plan in the living room. At half past six, my son woke up in a daze and looked for me. He called out to me a few times, but when I didnât respond, he started counting from 1 to 9 with a cry. He counted over and over again, from crying loudly at first, to sobbing quietly, and then counting more and more slowly, sniffing from time to time...
I tried to calm myself down, and kept typing on the keyboard. At the last word, I almost jumped up and ran to the room.
The moment my son saw me, he smiled; but I cried...
My son's fever reached 40°C, and the boss sent me a message of condolences and reminded me that it was time to go to work...
I felt very cowardly.
My son had a fever again and I asked for two days of leave from the company.
In the hospital, my son, who had a fever of 40 degrees, was wearing a fever-reducing patch, his face was red, and he was leaning on me in a daze, with an intravenous needle stuck in his hand... Suddenly, the leader sent a message to express condolences for his son's condition. I politely replied, "The fever has reached 40°C. I'm taking injections now. It should subside soon. Thank you for your concern." About five minutes later, the leader sent a second message, "That's good. I should come back to work after settling the children. Now, everyone is keeping an eye on your two jobs, so there can be no mistakes."
The moment I read the message, I was trembling all over. With inexplicable excitement, I pressed the long resignation letter on my phone, and was about to press the button. When I was sending it, my peripheral vision glanced at the treatment bill of nearly a thousand yuan in my hand. I calmed down and deleted the resignation letter that took me 20 minutes to write from end to end, word by word, until I deleted the last word. I typed two words "ok" on my phone, added a smiling emoticon and sent it to the leader.
Yes, I'm scared.
Working mothers are never supermen, they just try their best to be strong in the corner where others cannot see...
Is it the same for you?
