Chapter 7: My First JobMy first job came through my father. He arranged it for me, and it turned out to be the most terrible experience of my life.

  From the very first day, everything was wrong. The pce was filthy, the workers were bitter older men who cursed constantly, and — worst of all — they despised politeness.

  Back then, I was extremely polite. I always said “please,” “thank you,” and addressed everyone formally and with respect. But any time I did, they would immediately start yelling at me. Eventually, I learned to apologize and express gratitude silently, only in my head, where no one could hear.

  But the worst part wasn’t them. It was the boss.

  He was the greediest, dumbest, and most malicious person I have ever met. Whenever something broke, he didn’t go to a store for proper parts. No — he went to the dump. He'd find a scrap part there and demand that we install it.

  Of course, the machine wouldn’t st long and would break again almost immediately. But instead of accepting responsibility, the boss would scream at the worker, accuse him of being the reason it broke, and threaten to cut his sary. Then he’d go back to the dump and do the exact same thing — again and again.

  I watched this countless times during my first year.

  By the end of the year, I couldn’t take it anymore. I decided to talk to my father and gently expin that I was suffering — the workers were emotionally abusing me, and I was exhausted. But he cut me off and told me, “That’s normal. Everyone goes through that.”

  I trusted him deeply back then. So, I believed his words and kept going.

  In the second year, things got worse. Along with everything else, open bullying started. One of the older workers — a man in his 60s — decided it would be funny to mock me for being a virgin. He did it every damn morning, in front of the whole staff and even the boss.

  Soon, the others joined in — every single one of them. Even the boss sometimes took part. It became their daily ritual.

  I used to believe that the older you are, the wiser you become. But working in that pce, I began to realize that age doesn't always mean wisdom — and that realization hit me hard.

  But what came next left a scar on my soul.

  It was time for my first paycheck.

  When I first started working, I asked my father about money. He told me not to worry about it — that I’d be working as an assistant for now and that the pay would come.

  As I said, I trusted him. So I didn’t bring it up again for a whole year.

  But in the second year, I finally asked the boss about my sary. I didn’t want to keep working for free.

  What I learned shocked me.

  It turns out, he and my father had made an agreement from the start. I wouldn’t be paid in money — I’d be paid in animal feed.

  All the hay, grain, and supplies I’d seen delivered to our home over the past year… that was my sary.

  My own father had deceived me.