My entitled toxic boss works me harder than I've ever worked in my life, giving me no time off and quite literally burning me out of my job.

So I decided to quit to help my mental health improve, only to then get desperate messages from my former boss, as she is now begging me to come back because literally nobody wants to work for her.

Here's what happened.

Several months ago, I picked up a side job at a local

bar and cafe. It is quite a popular place, and my sister and I used to go in there a lot since she's friendly with the landlady. We were talking about her looking for help behind the bar one day a week in the evenings, and I agreed to give it a go after she posed the offer to me. I was going through a bit of a stagnant phase in life, and I thought it could be fun and worth the extra money.

Even though I already work full time, it is kind of a hybrid.

So I have more flexibility around things outside the office, and she said that she understood

if other work commitments needed prioritizing. I've never worked in a bar or done barista before,

and there was absolutely zero proper training. My first shift, the landlady showed me where everything was, and then immediately got me on serving customers, while she disappeared off to do other things. I knew next to nothing about wines or beers that we had on stock, how to measure and pour all the different drinks, enter all the items correctly onto the register, how to navigate the

coffee machine, as I did burn myself on the steamer more times than I can remember, but thankfully

the regulars gave me a lot of grace and advice, and eventually I muddled through. Well, I stuck

it out since the extra cash in my pocket certainly didn't hurt, but it was stressful and physically

demanding even at the best of times. It was often loud and busy in there.

With live music or karaoke playing, I mean, you would be on your feet constantly running back and forth,

bending and lifting heavy crates in and out of the dishwasher, getting your clothes and

shoes soaked with beer, it was a tiny space behind the bar, and the landlady seemed to have

zero spatial awareness, so she would be bustling in

behind you to grab things while you were literally in the middle of serving, knocking past your

elbows while you're trying to pour, squashing into you on the beer taps, tripping you and blocking

you in while she stood to talk to people, and expecting you to contort around her with your hands

full of pints or hot drinks. She also had a habit of telling you

off about doing stuff wrong, either something she'd never bothered to show you properly,

...