This is the second in a series of short essays on the theme of “Invasions”
I’ll be posting. See backstory here… -Sarah White
It was a Saturday in mid December 2006. I went to work like I had for years, in the capacity of assistant manager at a prestigious private country club. It was the height of the busy holiday season when I arrived to work at noon.
The final room preparations were being handled by my banquet supervisor. I was comfortable in my navy blue business suit and my flat leather navy shoes for the long day ahead. Two dinner parties were scheduled for the evening. The smaller group had made arrangements for a business meeting followed by a five-course meal. The larger group, a mortgage company, was being hosted by fairly new members to the club.
Around 10:00 p.m. I was called to the room of the larger group by a server who told me some guy was hitting his girlfriend. By the time I arrived at the area, the guest was being held by two bartenders and a busboy. He broke loose rocking, kicking, and flailing his arms.
He struck me across my chest and left breast, throwing me into a railing.
This event changed the way I perceived my boss and my chosen career. It was the final time. I took heed to the signs. My decision came during the ambulance ride. Get better. Get out.