Swallowing Hot Coals of Pride Every Time I Have to Say "Yes" to a Cruel Man

Dear Delyara, My director spoke to me today with a level of casual, arrogant disrespect that made my teeth ache from clenching them. He didn't yell; he just used that quiet, patronizing tone that explicitly reminds me that I am property while I am in this building. I stood there, smiled my polite corporate smile, nodded, and said, "Of course, I’ll have that updated for you by five." Inside, I was burning alive. I am so tired of swallowing my own dignity just to ensure my rent is paid on the first of the month. I can taste the ash of my own pride in the back of my throat, and I am terrified of the day the furnace finally blows its doors off.