These Are My Pieces....Continued: My First Proper Corporate Job After University.

THANK YOU JESUS!

Before I begin to share my first corporate experience after university, I need to sound a clear warning. This is for every graduate stepping into the corporate world for the very first time, whether through national service, a graduate traineeship, or an entry-level role.

ESPECIALLY THE LADIES!

We are in the season of employment. Many of you are preparing to join your programs and start your careers. I need you to hear this: you must have your head on straight. You must be alert.

You need to be aware of manipulation, and you must learn to recognize manipulative words for what they are.

The first sign? When someone in authority calls you “my golden girl” OR something of the sort.

I experienced this on my very first day in the organization where I worked after national service, my very first proper corporate experience. This same manager I am about to talk about looked at me and said, “My golden girl is here.”

At the time, I was young and naive. I thought it was a compliment. I thought it meant I had done something extraordinary. But today, having walked through that journey and become far more self-aware, I can tell you with absolute conviction: it is a red flag.

It is predatory. It reveals what is going on in that person’s mind.

If someone senior in your office calls you “my golden girl,” do not feel special. Do not feel chosen. It is a trap.

Beware of anyone who tells you, “Stick with me. I am the one who can help you rise in this organization.” That is not mentorship. That is manipulation. It is control. It is psychological bondage. And if you are not careful, you will lose yourself in it.

Your career growth does not depend on any one person. It is God who lifts. He alone is the one you should be sticking with. He alone is the one who orders your steps. Do not sell your innocence and your sense of direction for the illusion of favor from anyone.

Understand this: people can sense your naivety. They can smell your innocence the moment you walk into that room. Protect it. Guard it.

I believe God allowed me to go through this experience so I could live this lesson and come back as a testimony. I survived it, and now I am warning you be careful.

Because the same man who called me his “golden girl” was the same man who lunged at me, screamed at me, banged the table in anger, threw papers at me, and humiliated me publicly on several occasions.

And do you know the worst part? There were fifteen people in that open office who witnessed everything, and not one of them called him to order. Not one. Instead, they would pull me aside after his display of uncontrollable anger, tell me not to cry even when I was visibly in tears, and instruct me to go home and let it go, then come back the following day as if nothing had happened.

Let me tell you something: they will protect the abuser. They will not protect you.

So, beware. Stay alert. Do not get comfortable. You are there to learn, to build expertise, and to acquire skill. Make that your mission and pursue it relentlessly.

Do not expect anyone to have your back. No one does. Only Jesus!

The Job That Welcomed Me with Fire

After completing my national service, I got what I considered my first official job. This was 2019. At the time, getting a job, any job, was difficult. But this? This was a known organization, a place many young people in Ghana hoped to work. It was a big deal. A huge deal.

I was so excited. I had always wanted to work in a financial institution, and now here I was, stepping into one. It felt like an answered prayer.

On my first day, the hiring manager called me his golden girl. He said that out of all the candidates who came for the interview, I was the only one he chose specifically for his unit. The rest were pushed into other departments out of necessity, but I was his choice. His words made me feel honored, but also a little unprepared. I didn’t even think I had the technical skills for the unit. But I saw it as a God-given opportunity, so I embraced it with excitement and hope.

That excitement didn’t last long.

On that very first day, he handed me multiple Standard Operating Procedures (SOPs) to read. I had worked before, but my experience was with an agricultural institution, where training was hands-on. The procedures there were taught as you worked, explained, demonstrated, and reinforced. But here, it was different. I was handed thick SOPs and expected to figure it out. And this role was far more technical than anything I had done before.

Coming from a General Arts background, Political Science in university, I was stepping into unfamiliar terrain. It was intimidating, but I was determined. I told myself, I may not know it yet, but I will learn. I have grit, I have willpower, and I believed that I could do it. But the more I read those SOPs, the more I felt like I was drowning.

Then came the first confrontation.

It was just the first week. I was at my desk, reading the SOPs as I was told. Then the manager called me downstairs. He was visibly angry.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

I was confused. “Reading the SOPs you gave me,” I said.

“You don’t look like you’re doing anything,” he snapped.

I was stunned. What was I supposed to be doing beyond what I was instructed? I expected structure, support, some kind of guidance, especially as a fresh graduate. Instead, I was met with confusion, intimidation, and unclear expectations.

Then he said something I’ll never forget:

“If you make me tired of you, I’ll treat you in a way you’ll never forget. I’ll go dead silent on you. I’ll ignore you completely. I’ll frustrate you until you want to go. And when you’re ready to go, I’ll let you go.”

THIS VERY ACT HE DESCRIBED HERE IS CALLED STONE WALLING in that moment is called stonewalling, and it is one of the most common tactics of narcissistic control. It is a calculated form of silent punishment designed to break you down, strip you of confidence, and make you question your own worth. It is not just silence; it is psychological warfare.

Stonewalling is meant to isolate you, to make you feel invisible in an environment where you are already new and vulnerable. When a person in authority uses this tactic, it creates a toxic power dynamic. They withdraw all communication, guidance, and acknowledgment, not because you are incapable, but because they want to control how you move, think, and even perceive yourself.

If you have ever been subjected to this, you will understand the quiet devastation it brings. You start doubting yourself. You begin to overwork just to earn a nod, a word, or even the smallest sign of approval from someone who has already decided to weaponize silence against you. This is how narcissistic control operates in professional spaces: not always through loud humiliation, but also through a cold, calculated refusal to engage.

I did not have language for it at the time, but now I do. It was stonewalling. It was manipulation. And it was never leadership.

This was just the first week.

I stood there, young, innocent, and naive, wondering how something that started so beautifully could turn so quickly into a nightmare.

I tried to explain myself. I even asked, “Do you want to test me on the SOPs?”

But now, looking back, I realize how absurd that was. SOPs are not for testing, they are for orientation, for learning, for foundation. And they are supposed to be taught. You don’t just dump them on someone new, especially not someone in their first technical role.

Now that I’ve advanced in my career, I understand what good leadership looks like. A real leader doesn’t leave a new team member floundering in silence (Thank you, Bernard, for allowing me to experience this). A real leader engages, guides, and walks with you through the process. But that’s not what I received.

He passed me off to a colleague in another risk department, one with less technical depth. She tried to help, but the bigger question in my head was always: When does the real training begin? When does the practical part start? Because reading theory without the space to apply it was just confusion layered on top of pressure.

And it wasn’t just the work. It was the mental, emotional toll of being under someone who chose me, only to use that choice as leverage for psychological control.

Running to Catch Up with Disrespect

After he passed me off to the colleague in the other department to help walk me through the SOPs, I had a structured time to meet with her. She was kind, but she also had her own workload. So we’d meet at set times and go through the documents. Once I finished each session, I’d report back to him.

Then came a strange new phase.

He started asking me to follow him around the building, floor to floor, department to department. He said it was to help me get familiar with the office and understand the structure. But the way he moved, it was almost like he wanted me to fail at keeping up. He would walk so fast, climbing four steps at a time like he was racing, not walking. By the time I even got halfway up the staircase, he’d already reached the floor, entered an office, and disappeared.

Now here I was, running up and down staircases in corporate wear, panting just to locate him. I would have to ask receptionists and colleagues, “Have you seen him?” And they would point me in the direction he had gone.

One day, he turned to me and said,

“If you want to work with me, you need to increase your pace.”

I nodded respectfully, “Okay, well noted, thank you.”

But then I asked, “How do you mean?”

His response:

“You can’t be taking those tiny, tiny steps on the staircase.”

That day, I had to speak up. I called his name and said,

“With all due respect, I am a woman. I cannot take four steps in one stride like you do. I’ll increase my pace, yes, but I physically cannot move the way you move. You’re a man. I am not built like that.”

I was panting. I was tripping. I was doing everything just to keep up, and still being told it wasn’t enough. It was humiliating.

Then came another incident.

We were in another block of the office, still part of the institution, and he handed me his laptop. I was holding files and said,

“Take it.”

I was holding some things already, so I adjusted myself and shut the laptop to carry it properly. I didn’t think anything of it. When I got to his office, I placed the laptop on his desk and opened it. To my knowledge, it didn’t shut down, I hadn’t powered it off. And at that time, like in every organization I've worked with since, simply closing a laptop doesn’t erase what’s on screen. It’s just a protective gesture. But apparently, something happened with his setup or login session.

Around the same time, he had asked me to prepare presentation slides based on the SOPs. That department was newly established because BOG and the Cyber Security Authority had mandated financial institutions to formalize that unit. It was a serious responsibility, but again, I was fresh, just learning.

The colleague he assigned to help me had told me clearly:

“Prepare the slides and bring them to me. I’ll edit and review before we pass it on.”

So I did just that. I followed her instruction.

But then, he came yelling.

“Do you know when I need this thing? Do you know the urgency? Why are you taking so long to prepare slides? How long does it take?”

I calmly told him, “Sir, the person you asked me to report to said I should prepare and bring it to her first. That’s what I’ve been doing.”

But he wasn’t hearing it. He was in full attack mode.

Then he asked,

“When do you intend to finish?”

I replied,

“By C.O.B. today. I’ll submit it to her, and she’ll finalize it tomorrow morning.”

And then he screamed at me. I don't know if it had restarted, I can't really tell what had happened, but he started to scream. And then he said, “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” and he literally lunged at me. He screamed, “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What did you do to my machine? Who asked you to touch it? Who asked you to touch it? What did you do? I only gave you an instruction.”

The interesting thing about this is that, when I was leaving his presence, he saw me with many files and folders and a paper bag in my hand. He saw my hands were full, and he still handed the laptop over to me. I did not complain, and I am not justifying anything, but that was the best position I could have held the laptop.

This is the thing about manipulative human beings: it is not that he could not see that I couldn't have safely carried the laptop without having to close it in that moment. It wasn’t the best decision to hand his laptop to me, considering I was holding files, and my hands were literally full. So, a way for me to manage the situation now became an actual attack in the office.

I remember this day so well. It was in October 2019, during Breast Cancer Awareness Week. I remember I was even wearing a pink dress because it was for Breast Cancer Awareness Week, and I was scared. Mind you, I had never experienced a man lunging at me like that ever in my life. That was my very first experience. I was only about 23 years old. I had never experienced that type of attack in my life before.

I couldn’t hold back tears. I literally wept. Tears were rolling down because I was scared. I had never experienced something like that before.

From this point onwards, I can feel it in my body. It is as if someone is strangling me while I try to retell and recount my experience. My eyes are filled with tears as I type this. My hands are shaking on the keyboard. I now understand that this is a trauma response.

So I will stop here for now. I will continue later.

When I do, I will not follow a strict chronological order. I will simply list the things that happened, one by one, because that is the only way I can face it.

Today, I can see it clearly: I have been deeply traumatized. And how do I know this? Because it has taken me weeks just to write up to this point. This draft has been sitting untouched for almost a month. Every time I returned to it and tried to continue, it felt like something was pressing on my chest, suffocating me.

That is how I know this entire experience was deeply traumatic.

To be continued.