“If My Wife Had A Hot Body Like Yours, I Would Call in Sick Every Day.” From Passion To Pain: Sheila’s Dilemma.

“I hate my job!” Sheila screamed, slamming the door behind her

“A good evening to you too!” I chuckled.

Sheila dragged her feet and collapsed on the sofa. I really sympathized. She had always complained about her job, but the outbursts had become frequent. This was her third consecutive week in a ‘jolly’ mood.

“What happened this time?” I enquired and sat by the edge of the chair.

“Same old, crap!!” She mumbled, still lying face down on the coach.

“If it’s that bad, why don’t you just resign!” I said with a calming finality.

“Quit!……I don’t have that luxury.” She sighed.

We sat in silence for a hot minute. I could feel her pain and desperation.

“What happened today couldn’t be worse than last week?” I thought to myself.

I have known Sheila for many years. We are childhood friends. We drifted apart during our high school era but reconnected on campus. All these years, one thing I am sure about is Sheila’s passion for food. She has always had a special liking for food. She loves it. Sheila always sparkles when she talks about food. And she can rave about it for hours. Sometimes, it’s annoying! So, it wasn’t a shock when Sheila enrolled for a degree in food production.

Unfortunately, our education system does not prepare us for the realities of the job market. It’s one of the harshest veracities of adulting! Sheila couldn’t find a job even with her first-class degree in food production. Most food production firms thought she was overqualified, while many restaurants needed hotel and hospitality management papers. Imagine that!

After a few certifications, Sheila transformed into a dedicated and passionate chef. After all, with passion, you can get through anything, right? Wrong!

 “You have a pretty face Sheila, why don’t you market our brand instead!”

“You look like a flower, so beautiful, you would make a nice receptionist.”

“We wouldn’t want you to burn your pretty hands, let the men cook!”

“Why don’t you apply some lipstick and go serve those guys some tea!”

Yep! Sexism at its best. For a while, Sheila couldn’t get a job as a chef. The kitchen was a man’s world. Apparently, a woman couldn’t handle the pressures and difficulties of the culinary profession. Funny how society jokes that a woman belongs in the kitchen- it should have been specified- the household kitchen!

Sheila didn’t mind the service jobs as long as she got her foot in the door. She played the roles as they came. However, transitioning from service jobs into the kitchen proved an uphill task. In one hotel, she worked as a receptionist for a year, and the manager still refused to transition her to her dream job, so she resigned.

She got a job as a waitress in a prestigious hotel in Nairobi. At least with this one, she was closer to the kitchen, or so she thought. The manager bounced her off from waitressing to housekeeping to procurement and back to service jobs. For another year, she waited for her dream job with no fruition.

So, when she applied for this position and got it, with no prior cooking experience, it felt heaven-sent. She was so excited. Finally, a light at the end of an extremely dark tunnel. It was bliss, or so she thought. A month into the job, she had yet to cook anything. The head chef despised her, and the other chefs didn’t make it easier either.

“I asked for a chef, and you brought me a little girl who keeps getting in the way!” He would often complain to the manager while looking at her dead in the eye. He had her prepping ingredients for two months. She was constantly peeling potatoes, cutting meat into perfect cubes, and dicing carrots and onions, day in and day out. Frustrating, huh?

Not forgetting the insensitive, misogynistic comments.

“Chop! Chop! Sheila, this is not a beauty pageant!”

“Don’t waste your beauty in this heat girl, go smile at the clients they will make you rich!”

“If my wife had a hot body like yours, I would call in sick every day!”

When Sheila had enough of the mistreatment, she talked with the manager. The manager, Mrs Kamau, was soft-spoken, and she advised her to just have a little patience as the head chef was testing her. Equipped with this new knowledge and insight, Sheila bore the burden, hoping that things would one day change.

She did, however, try pleading with the head chef for a chance to cook something, but her pleas landed on arrogant, deaf ears. In fact, he moved her from food prepping to bus-girl duties—cleaning dirty dishes every hour. When she protested, he claimed she had not learned the in-house dicing style—perfect cubes were what he needed. For a busy kitchen and restaurant, I always wondered where the head chef got the time to be so petty.

When she told me about it, I advised her to talk to the manager again. And so, she did, and this time, Mrs. Kamau took the chance to give the head chef a piece of her mind. A public press down. According to Sheila’s story, it was quite a spectacle and highly embarrassing for him.

“Things could only get better from now on!” Sheila said ecstatically. I could see her eyes sparkle with hope.

However, things escalated from bad to worse. The head chef assigned her cooking duties and sabotaged her the whole time. Each meal she made received negative reviews from the customers. This happened for an entire month. The food was either salty, dry, burnt, or didn’t have the hotel’s signature flavour. Soon, she was back prepping ingredients, feeling like a certified failure.

She was so upset when she discovered that the head chef was sabotaging her. Deliberately ruining the food behind her back. She confronted him. Stood up for herself and let him have a piece of her mind. However, he was ready for her!

As she was talking, he suddenly grabbed her by the neck, pinned her on the wall and said, “Little girl, many people have been employed here and they all leave me standing tall. Don’t think you and that stupid manager can get your way. I know the owner personally, you can’t touch me!”

It was downhill from then on. Sheila often came home crying. One time, someone ‘accidentally’ locked her in the store room. She had spent an hour knocking before anyone let her out. The message was clear: they wanted her gone. At this point, I would just have quit; after all, it’s never that serious!

However, I understood her plight. The job was terrible, but she got her paycheck consistently and on time. In the post-COVID-19 economic era, every penny was precious. Also, the looming fear of not getting another ‘chance’ in the kitchen kept her stuck there. At least here she was in the kitchen learning, right?

Nevertheless, last week, she came home devastated. The head chef had sent her into the store to retrieve some ingredients. While she was racking the sacks for some potatoes, he walked in and closed the door behind him.

“I was so scared when I turned and saw him.” she narrated.

“I stepped back as he moved closer to me. When there was no more room, I stood still, frozen in fear.” She continued.

“Didn’t you scream for help?” I enquired, fearing for her life, too.

“Before I could open my mouth, he rushed and grabbed me by the throat and pinned me on the wall…”

“Again?” I exclaimed.

“Yes again! But this time he touched my boobs!” She sobbed

“What!”

“Mh! and then he said if only he could have me maybe he would let me cook! Then he slide his hands down my thighs and grabbed my ass and spanked me. If it was not for someone approaching the store, I hate to think what he would have done to me!” She said, crying hysterically.

I still could not believe that she went to work the next day. Lord have mercy!

My chain of thoughts broke as I looked at her, still lying face down on the sofa. I wish she dared to resign. This couldn’t be healthy for anyone. I wish she didn’t have so much fear for the future to put up with such treatment. However, I was also painfully aware that only she could make that decision. Therefore, I moved closer and rubbed her back while stroking her hair to comfort her. Maybe that’s all she needed today. To sit in silence with a good friend amid chaos.

Final Thoughts.

Sheila’s story is one of many. Women across industries face systemic discrimination, workplace abuse, and toxic environments, often feeling powerless to leave due to financial and career fears. No job is worth enduring such pain. If you or someone you know is in a similar situation, speak up, seek help, and remember—you deserve better.

Have you ever experienced workplace toxicity? Share your story in the comments. Let’s raise awareness and support each other.♥