Why battles with working mums aren’t worth fighting

There is so much to like about being back at work after maternity leave. All that time to sit at my desk answering emails and Facebooking without being interrupted. Shopping in my lunch break. Yes, my back to work outfit fail is now behind me. I’ve spent every single penny I’ve earned and more (I earn literally nothing) on Topshop, Mango and, um, Marni.

I do feel a bit bad about this but I’ve got a wedding coming up AND it’s so beautiful that I will wear it time and time again, summer and winter, to any kind of smart event. I will probably be buried in it. So definitely worth £1,200.

I digress.

There is so much to like about being back at work after maternity leave apart from WORK. I fucking hate my job.

I sit here, trying to look busy, when really I could have done all that I need to do this whole sodding week in an hour on Monday morning. I know, I shouldn’t complain, I still get paid but where is the job satisfaction?

Someone called Dan (it’s not Dan, as I’ve had to change names for anonymity reasons but it’s an even more boring slightly more chavvy three letter name that I would never call my child) has taken it upon himself to sweep up all my work, steal all my clients, and generally make me feel redundant. He’s about 25 and wears nasty grey belted trousers and a fitted shirt, yes fitted. He is fucking pernicious.

I’m trying to keep Dan at bay but it is exhausting. I’m trying to shine again at work, to get nice emails from my boss thanking me for stuff.

But it’s so frickin hard when you have to leave on the dot every day to get back for bath time and can’t possibly get in an hour early for no good reason except to look virtuous because actually you’d rather spend as much time with your little daughter as possible.

I know, such a cliche. Dan has worked it out too, and he is moving in for the kill.

I REFUSE to believe that I’m a worse bet for my team, though. That they’d be better off with Dan. Quite the contrary.

I’m more organised, I value my pay cheque more than ever, and I’m way better at multitasking than a jumped up little cretin like him. Plus I think (hope) clients like me better, I’m more human, I work hard for them, I’m not slippery or shady.

So I’m going to hold firm and keep my chin up and teach him something that all mothers understand.

That some battles just aren’t worth fighting.



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