In March, I left a job because of… mean girls. Yes. Actual, real-life, adult, paycheck-collecting mean girls. I hate that I even have to say that sentence out loud, but here we are. And let me tell you—it was hands down the worst professional experience of my life.
A lot of you know where I was working, but maybe not that I left—or why. So buckle up.
I made it 8 months. Eight. Whole. Months. Honestly, I deserve a commemorative plaque or at least a strong margarita for that level of endurance.
At first, the opportunity sounded amazing. New role, new challenge, life away from the bedside—I was ready. But because I’m not new to the game, I kept my position at UCHealth. Your girl always keeps a safety net. We don’t just leap—we strategically hover.
Day ONE at the new job, I questioned how an LPN was taking vital signs. You know, normal nurse behavior—making sure things are, oh, I don’t know, accurate and legal. Apparently, that was my villain origin story. From that moment on, she decided I was her personal enemy and launched a full-blown campaign to make sure everyone else knew it too.
Quick nursing PSA: documenting vitals that didn’t actually happen = falsifying documentation = potentially losing your license.
So yeah… I’m gonna ask questions.
Then there was the second member of the “Mean Girls: Clinical Edition” squad, who apparently just hated my… existence? She told me I walked around like I was better than everyone and constantly bragged about my degree.
So naturally I asked, “Oh? What degree do I have?”
Her response: “Aren’t you a BSN?”
Ma’am. If I were bragging about it constantly, you’d KNOW. That’s how bragging works.
Now here’s where it really gets good. I brought all of this to management, thinking, “Surely we’re going to address workplace bullying like professionals.”
The solution? A meeting where we “talk it out”… and then HUG at the end.
I’m sorry—did I accidentally enroll in middle school?
Did I miss spirit week?
Should I have brought snacks?
Also worth noting: these are not girls. These are grown women. With jobs. And responsibilities. And apparently zero interest in acting their age.
Here’s what I’ve learned: miserable people travel in packs. And they talk about others because if they talked about themselves, the room would clear out real quick.
And to quote the wise words of Eminem: “Everybody only wants to discuss me.”
Which—unfortunately—was the daily theme. Being called a “fucking bitch,” “stupid bitch,” “dumb bitch”… every single day. Yes. DAILY.
Now, to be clear—although this might sound bitter, I’m not. But this shit has to stop. Disrespect is a choice, and it has absolutely no place in health care. Period.
To be fair —not everyone there was awful. I met some truly amazing people, and I made friendships that I know will last forever. Those people made the chaos slightly more tolerable.
But my heart genuinely hurts for anyone else who has to work in that environment, now or in the future.
And here’s the wildest part—they only targeted other women. Silent as church mice around the men. One of my male coworkers even said, “This is a great place to work… if you’re a man.”
Sir. WHAT.
Anyway—plot twist: I’m back at UCHealth full-time and happier than ever. Turns out, good leadership actually exists. The kind that doesn’t tolerate bullying, values teamwork, and understands that “professional environment” does not include name-calling and forced hugging.
To the leaders who get it—you know who you are—I’m forever grateful.
And to the mean girls… I hope you eventually graduate and grow the fuck up.
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