Here’s the Truth: I’m not a Corporate Baddie. I’m a Creative with Corporate Training
I’ma just say it…
Corporate Baddie is a trauma response — at least for me.
I find writing this piece ironic, because the last few posts of mine someone may find, is me beginning the deep dive into fulfillment in one’s career. And I had a plan. There’s a nifty spreadsheet with a list of article topics, keywords, along with where it’ll “drive to,” and I couldn’t get past the part where I give people advice on how to have a fulfilling career. I’m sure someone else would’ve pushed through, but there’s not enough AI generated text that could get me through it.
I’m horrible at being dishonest and disingenuous.
It’s never been my personality.
My experience with corporate is a tender spot for me.
The desire to share what I’ve learned, and what I inherently know, about achieving fulfillment in one’s career fell to the bottom of the priority list because I hadn’t applied this knowledge to my life. In fact, I’ve been struggling since I finished undergrad and, without aging myself, let’s just say that was helluva a long time ago. The journey to a space of contentment is an uncertain road, filled with corporate trauma. Between the industries where I’ve worked and the traditional nine-to-five itself, the overall workforce has left me bitter, underwhelmed, overstimulated, and despondent.
Naturally, capitalism is the root cause, and it’s where the rabbit hole begins.
Are you an audio lover? Listen to this post here, where I delve a little deeper into this topic; but proceed with caution — I cuss like a sailor.
The years I wasted adapting to an unsuitable environment.
Discovering ADHD later in life liberated and disappointed me all at once. All I think of are the accommodations I needed, the support awaiting me, and the language missing from my lexicon. I had no clue this was part of my identity. From masking to experiencing executive dysfunction, all of it inflamed the challenges of working in corporate.
While not defining me completely, having ADHD heavily influences how I see and experience the world.
Coupled with being an introvert, it led colleagues to label me disinterested, cavalier, and combative. I simply crave the solitude to work in peace, and take pleasure in sitting at a desk and managing my assignments as they come. It was less distracting and provided the emotional and psychological safety necessary to navigate a space that always felt foreign to me because I didn’t belong — at least not for an elongated period.
There were moments in my career that were anomalies — if you will.
My time in retail, although I’ll never intentionally work a retail job again, and my first gig in Manhattan as an International Account Executive, were where I experienced what corporate cultures call “a family dynamic,” but we actually felt like family. We’d have special lunches that celebrated everyone’s ethnicity — my first introduction to DEI. There was a “family bar” we all met at to gather and drink merrily. When a customer tried to play us, we collectively stopped the nonsense. We supported each other, covered for one another, and prioritized team success.
The shit folks talk about now isn’t even close.
I’d like to say certain industries carry certain mores, but at my first job post-undergrad at a nonprofit agency, I got blackballed because I quit to work with the town’s arch nemesis. It was a hard lesson in loyalty that I still haven’t learned — and purposely. Between being placed on probation for not enough Monday morning meetings, fired because I wouldn’t sell out a coworker and colleagues competing with me in meetings, it’s really a shit show.
I’d cycle through moments of clarity and try to opt out of corporate. I attempted freelancing and contracting, but entering that gated community is just as challenging. There was a plan. I tapped into resources, but when you’re unaware of how executive dysfunction works (or that you have it in the first place) you’re left spinning like a top with no way to wrangle yourself.
That’s when the trauma resurfaces.
You think this isn’t your thing, and it’s best to get a regular job like everyone else.
Since I couldn’t seem to collect my $200 and pass go, I did what I knew best and found another nine-to-five. I went from teacher, to chief of staff, marketing assistant, to social media manager. I ran coworking spaces, youth programs, and print production departments. For every path of success I thought found, someone knocked me down.
Was I not likeable enough?
Am I not pushing myself hard enough?
Are my networking skills trash?
Am I that bad at selling myself?
The answers were always the opposite for me.
The road ahead, dim.
In between all the back and forth, I found time to get a Master’s degree, thinking it would position me toward upward mobility and I was a fool to believe so. It was too much or not enough. Had an EVP of Communications place my resume on a hiring manager’s desk, highly recommended, and nothing. When I finally crawled my way to a six-figure salary, I had to opt out. The exhausting work, fighting through corporate fluff, pushing past narratives and labels, only to reach an unsustainable point.
One could surmise I was burnout before I even got there, but no one would notice because I’m high-functioning. I’m sure it’s how no one noticed my ADHD. Performing at my level of excellence in pursuit of efficiency is a natural mechanism. I’m always going to over-perform, and to my detriment—unfortunately.
I don’t know how to turn it off.
That part of my personality doesn’t always bode well in office environments, and I find myself in discord with people unknowingly. Being the only Black woman (and often the only Black person) in the room worsened the exhaustion caused by office politics. Having little to no one to share my experience was a constant loop I wanted to end. I experienced certain moments where I came across a few Black individuals who reminded me that all skinfolk ain’t kinfolk.
My creative spirit screamed to be unleashed, and I believed I could tap into creative corporate spaces to achieve similar goals, but I encountered obstacles at every turn. The lingering voice of self-doubt questioned my worth.
There was no reprieve.
Whenever I found a pleasant space to work, people accused me of working in a silo. Found a creative solution, I had to discard it and follow a “process” that didn’t adapt to varying scenarios. Clients claimed my writing was to be subpar, but later found out account executives were rewriting my work. Executive titles and privilege often outweigh competence, resulting in interruptions during meetings by clueless individuals.
I am not a corporate baddie.
I am; however, a creative with superb corporate training.
No longer do I wear the “corporate baddie badge” as an identity or use it as a sleeve to slip on when I experience moments of instability. The corporate baddie is here to keep me on task, not save me. Although there was never a desire to be one, she became an archetype I embodied under duress. I now understand her role in my work life and can better manage that part of myself.
Have I opted out of corporate completely?
Yes, for now.
I’m reimagining what this looks like for me as I work towards building a creative practice that offers sustainability, flexibility, and access to the creative opportunities I desire. Maybe that comes through projects from corporate entities and I’m open to that. However, negotiations and accommodations are necessary to reconsider full-time employment again.
If my story resonates with you, it may be time to ask yourself if you’re a corporate baddie out of desire or duress. Let this be your prompt to begin your exploration.
Until we meet again.
