There was a time when I could put on a pair of high heels, walk around, travel and go about my day without thinking twice about my feet. Today, I think about them every single day. I live with Plantar Fasciitis and Achilles Tendinitis in both feet, and the chronic pain affects how long I can comfortably walk, how long I can stand and what I’m able to do in my everyday life. My experience working as a Transaction Specialist at JPMC played a significant role in getting me here. I’m not writing this because I expect everyone who works for JPMC to have had the same experience. I’m writing about my experience, my body and what happened to me. For me, this isn’t simply a bad employee review. It’s about what can happen when a workplace becomes so focused on operations, productivity and getting the job done that the human being doing the job begins to feel like nothing more than an employee number.
When I worked as a Transaction Specialist, my position required me to stand throughout my shift. There weren’t chairs available for us to sit down while performing our regular duties, and there weren’t scheduled rest breaks where I could get off my feet for a few minutes. I had one 30 minute meal break, and then I went back to standing. At the beginning of every month, our schedule also required us to work 12 consecutive days. Looking back now, I sometimes wonder why I accepted that as normal. The truth is, when you’re an employee trying to do your job and earn your paycheck, you don’t necessarily stop and think about what your working conditions might be doing to your body long term. You show up, do your job, go home and come back to do it again. That’s exactly what I did until my feet started hurting.
Eventually, I developed plantar fasciitis and Achilles tendinitis in both feet. I’ve gone through extensive treatment, including approximately a year and a half of physical therapy, yet I’m still dealing with the pain. I’m now in a completely different office role where I sit for most of my workday, but getting off my feet didn’t make the damage disappear. My feet still hurt. There are times when I limp, and I can’t comfortably stand or walk for long periods. Activities that used to be normal for me now require me to think about how much pain I’m going to experience afterward. Even something as simple as wearing the high heels I once loved isn’t so simple anymore. That’s one of the things people don’t always understand about chronic pain. Your shift ends, but the pain doesn’t.
Looking back at everything I’ve experienced, I don’t just feel disappointed in how I was treated as an employee. I feel like JPMC failed me as a human being. I didn’t need special treatment. I needed empathy. I needed someone to recognize that employees are actual human beings with bodies that hurt, families waiting for them at home, personal lives and physical limitations that don’t disappear simply because there’s work to be done. Instead, my experience often left me feeling as though employees were treated more like cattle being moved through an operation than individual human beings. Show up, stand where you’re assigned, do the work, meet expectations and keep moving. When you work for a huge corporation, it’s incredibly easy to feel like you’re nothing more than an employee number on somebody’s spreadsheet. That’s how I felt.
That feeling became even more difficult when I needed accommodations. I didn’t experience the level of understanding and support that I believe an employee dealing with legitimate medical problems deserved. There’s something deeply discouraging about giving years of your life to a company and eventually wondering whether the company actually sees you, or whether it only sees your employee ID, attendance, productivity and performance numbers. Companies love talking about employee wellness, mental health, workplace culture and bringing your whole self to work, but those words don’t mean much when an employee is hurting and doesn’t feel supported. For me, there was a serious disconnect between the idea of employee well being and what I actually experienced.
A chair shouldn’t feel like an unreasonable request. Being able to occasionally rest your feet shouldn’t feel like you’re asking for a luxury. An employee shouldn’t have to worry that trying to protect their health could jeopardize their job or paycheck, and someone dealing with chronic pain shouldn’t feel invisible. I needed compassion, information and options. Most importantly, I needed to be treated like Kyia, not just another employee number. I needed to feel like my health mattered as much as the work I was expected to perform.
Another part of this experience that still bothers me is that no one ever told me that I might have the option of filing a workers’ compensation claim. At the time, I didn’t understand workers’ compensation. Like a lot of people, I thought a workers’ compensation injury was something obvious that happened during one specific incident, such as falling, being struck by something or getting hurt while operating equipment. My situation wasn’t like that. My feet didn’t suddenly become injured one afternoon. The pain developed gradually over time. Because I didn’t understand that a gradually developing medical condition could potentially raise workers’ compensation questions, I didn’t investigate my options when my symptoms first developed. I wish I had.
A couple years later, I eventually filed a workers’ compensation claim, but by then, timing had become part of the problem, and I’m still navigating that process today. I’m not an attorney, and I’m not saying that everyone who develops Plantar Fasciitis, Achilles tendinitis or another medical condition at work automatically qualifies for workers’ compensation. I’m saying something much simpler. Employees should know that they can ask questions and learn about their options. I didn’t know, and by the time I learned more, I was already dealing with consequences that might have been different if I had understood the process sooner.
What makes all of this especially difficult is that it stopped being just a workplace problem a long time ago. The physical consequences followed me home. My ability to walk and stand comfortably has changed, and there are activities I now reconsider because I know I will pay for them physically later. Chronic pain has affected my personal life and my overall quality of life. Living with pain every day is exhausting, and it has added tremendous emotional stress to my life. It has also increased the anxiety and depression I already struggle with. Sometimes the physical pain, anxiety and mental exhaustion stack on top of one another until I simply need time away from work.
Unfortunately, taking care of yourself isn’t always financially easy. There are months when I need to take several days away from work because of my physical or mental health, but the bills don’t stop because I’m struggling. Rent, utilities, groceries and other financial responsibilities still have to be paid. Missing work affects my paycheck, and a smaller paycheck creates additional financial stress. That financial stress increases my anxiety, which creates another layer of emotional pressure. My physical health affects my mental health, my mental health sometimes affects my ability to work, and my ability to work affects my income. It’s a cycle that can become incredibly difficult to break.
If I could talk to the Kyia who first started experiencing foot pain, I would tell her to stop trying to tough it out. I would tell her that pain is information and that constantly pushing through it doesn’t make you stronger. I would have documented everything much earlier, asked more questions and talked with my doctors specifically about whether my working conditions could be contributing to what was happening to my feet. I would have researched workplace accommodations and educated myself about workers’ compensation. Most importantly, I would have advocated for myself much sooner. I didn’t know what I didn’t know, and unfortunately, sometimes you don’t learn how important these things are until you’re already dealing with the consequences.
I also know I’m not the only person who has stayed quiet, pushed through pain and kept working because that’s what we were taught to do. I think this is especially true for many of us in Generation X. We grew up hearing things like, “Suck it up,” “Go to work,” “Handle your business” and “Don’t complain.” There can be pride in being resilient and hardworking, but I’ve learned that sometimes sucking it up comes with a price. I’ve paid part of that price physically with my feet. I’ve paid some of it emotionally through stress, anxiety and depression, and I’ve paid some of it financially when my health has interfered with my ability to work.
Companies, especially enormous corporations with tremendous resources, can and should do better. Employee well being shouldn’t just be language written on an internal website or something discussed during Mental Health Awareness Month. Empathy shouldn’t disappear when productivity enters the conversation. Employees shouldn’t feel like burdens when they need legitimate accommodations, and people shouldn’t have to sacrifice their long term health just to prove that they’re hardworking. Employees have bodies, families, responsibilities, emotions and lives outside of work. We’re human beings before we’re employee numbers.
I’m not sharing my experience because I want sympathy. I’m sharing it because somebody else may be standing at work right now with their feet screaming at them while they’re telling themselves, “I’ll be alright.” Maybe you will be, but please don’t assume it. Talk to your doctor. Document your symptoms. Put important workplace requests in writing. Learn about accommodations that may be available to you. If you believe your job is contributing to an injury or medical condition, educate yourself about workers’ compensation and applicable deadlines as early as possible. Ask questions and advocate for yourself.
If there’s one thing this entire experience has taught me, it’s that protecting your health has to become a priority before you’re forced to make it one. I can’t go backward and change what happened, but I can tell my story now in hopes that someone else will learn from it. A company can replace an employee number when someone leaves, retires or changes positions. You can’t replace your body. Take care of it, listen to it and never be afraid to advocate for yourself when something doesn’t feel right.
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