Story 13

For years, I spent my time updating strategy—working to align with each new corporate mantra, asking to be integrated into the organization with every restructuring. It was clear that much thought had gone into what the “new” organization was supposed to represent. Each time, I searched for where my team fit in the design. We never did.

So, I created documents to show alignment, to carve out space for myself as a leader among peers at the same officer level, to demonstrate that I understood the broader vision and the value our work brought to the firm.

I remember repeatedly asking to be added to more than one workstream—simply to be included. I didn’t care about taking on more work; I wanted to be valued and to show value. The embarrassment eventually settled in. Ultimately, years of being sidelined, discounted, and excluded from “the team” was unsettling to me, yet seemingly acceptable. The work had to occur because it was of interest to “the Board.” The alignment and tie-in according to one leader was unnecessary because while important to the Board, immediate leadership was quiet on the matter -paraphrased – no, goals from the top, no reason create requirements for work seemingly unnecessary.

I remember knowing an offsite was happening but not being invited. When I inquired—after even the secretary acted secretive—I was told I “could come if I wanted,” but that “the team” would be discussing data and numbers and likely wouldn’t cover the work my team was doing. I tried to make sense of it, to find some logic or acceptance in the exclusion. After being left out of offsites one too many times, I finally took the hint.

I wondered and still wonder – why, with HR present for reviews, collegial meetings, and offsites, this group continued to get away with neglect, exclusion, and microaggressions.

I remember beginning to look for new roles internally because it was clear my growth was being stalled. Leadership told me to proceed. Then the internal recruiter informed me that my interview was a “courtesy,” that the time slot was typically reserved for those already “on the floor,” and that I would not get the position—though perhaps I could work for the person they were already planning to hire. It felt dismissive, unprofessional, and painfully consistent with every HR experience I’d had.

I remember speaking to HR generalists, Directors, and Managing Directors, sharing what I had endured. I was told to “hold out,” not to leave. I heard acknowledgment that my concerns were valid—yet nothing changed.

I remember when senior leaders on the same floor stopped speaking to me. I remember the notes asking, “Are you the only one who can speak on this topic?” and “Isn’t there someone else who can speak?”

I remember when enough finally became enough—when the atmosphere shifted and my spirit awakened. After giving executive guidance that went ignored, after writing directions that went unacknowledged, an employee pulled me aside. They expressed surprise, even sadness, at what they perceived as my “allowance of disrespect” when a new leader publicly attempted to invalidate my authority. Their disappointment stung—not because they were wrong, but because they saw what I had been fighting to hide.

I absorbed it all. I internalized it. I fought to integrate the team. I listened to feedback about how I could collaborate “better,” how I could be more “accepted.” I turned cartwheels, knowing that even a perfect 10 would never be enough. I did backflips—ten in a row with a toe touch—and still there would be a flaw in my delivery. Silently, my spirit began to disintegrate. Yet I was never truly silent.

I had to give myself grace. I had to pull myself up. This was a job—not my life. Yet over time, especially in the post political headwinds, the “me” I knew began to weaken.

Was I weak for wanting acknowledgment for stellar work?
Unrealistic for wanting respect?
Wrong for feeling tolerated but never celebrated?
Wrong for considering a leave as a means of survival and reclaiming my peace?
Wrong for refusing to acquiesce to process changes I knew were wrong?

Survival should not be the endgame at any firm. Yet for me, it was. Thriving was never afforded to me.

I worked to meet goals and elevate the firm, but I was never elevated, integrated, or advanced.

Even now, I worry that telling my story will lead to further blackballing. But there is a saying: “If you are silent about your pain, they’ll kill you and say you enjoyed it.” I was not silent—and I still suffered.

If I say nothing now, when I finally have space to speak, my silence will be taken as acceptance of a workplace I long described as toxic and unwelcoming.

It is sad—because the fear of missing out, the hope that one day my work or I would be appreciated, is what kept me there longer than anyone wanted. Nothing about my experience reflected the mantra of being a “bank with a soul.” It was quite the contrary.

My experience did/does not reflect the organization’s stated values or its public commitment to being a “bank with a soul.” Instead, it reflects a pattern of exclusion, marginalization, and disregard that has had a lasting impact on my professional trajectory and well-being.