It feels weird writing this, because it’s something I’ve wanted to write ever since you hit me across the face at a staff party several years ago. I never said anything. I felt scared of “making a fuss”, worried that maybe it wasn’t a big deal, but also overwhelmed with anger. This event still isn’t resolved for me. This is why I’m writing to you, in the hope it will bring me closure.
It was about 3am and we were in a small pub. You were behind the bar and I was stood in front of it with my good friend, Sarah*. You adored her and always made me feel like the annoying sidekick.
You and I had a difficult history – I had quit the same managerial position a few years ago. Despite me being good at my job, Sarah had to fight to get me rehired. I never quite felt like you treated me the same – you held a grudge towards me for some reason.
At the bar, you looked at Sarah and said: “From now on all the drinks are free”. I responded with an enthusiastic: “Thanks!” which I can only assume you took as sarcastic. It was then that you lifted your arm, pulled it to the side, leant slightly over the bar, and slapped me hard round the face.
I remember feeling stunned and a bit confused. The whole thing still feels like a blur when I think about it now, and I think this is partly why I have worried about making a fuss, because: what if I made it up? What if it didn’t happen and we were just all really drunk?
Sarah later said: “That was a really good example of him being really nice to me and really mean to you!”
I was drunk, you were drunk, but I didn’t make it up: you hit me. I just hate how this doubt creeps into my mind when I think of the incident. Doubt about whether my feelings are legitimate, whether my need for closure is valid. Doubt about whether it was a big deal, and whether the event is worthy of fuss, or whether I should just be able to forget about it and move on. The questioning and self-blaming comes from wondering whether it was somehow my fault – if it was something I could have avoided if I had behaved differently.
This is one of the main reasons I wanted to write this letter — to tell you that if ever something like this happens again (which I hope it doesn’t), you should apologise to whoever you hurt.
Better still, never do it again.
How the whole situation was dealt with was so much worse than being hit across the face. I didn’t feel validated, believed, or heard by you or anyone in senior positions at work. My colleagues and friends were amazing, but I ended up questioning the validity of what I said happened and my experience afterwards. I kept quiet, and didn’t make a fuss because of the shame of feeling that I must have done something to deserve it. I believe this is partly because I didn’t feel believed by senior staff. I told the chief of staff what happened, and she replied: “Well you are a bit enthusiastic sometimes.”
I was speechless. Enthusiastic or not, I don’t deserve to be hit across the face.
Apparently the only reason you eventually apologised was because another boss told you that I was going to the police. I wasn’t, and I don’t know where the rumour started, but it seemed to scare you into saying sorry. It didn’t feel like enough though – it felt forced.
You hitting me across the face burst the bubble of what felt “normal” in a work circumstance – hearing friends telling me it wasn’t okay, made me realise it wasn’t. But I still wish you hadn’t hit me.
*some names have been changed to protect identities
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