My first real job out of college. I’d been looking for about a year with no luck, until an old friend told me to try a company in Colima.
I had never really been to Colima. My family and friends were back in Michoacán. A technology I didn’t know at all. A rented room that, honestly, was pretty ugly.
I started as a junior software engineer, and I really wanted to keep that job.
Then the jokes started.
“Let the new guy do it, right?”
“Have him swap the water jug.”
“Have him clean this.” “Have him fix that.”
None of it was about work. It was part of the culture. Hazing, more or less, not mean. But it weighed on me.
It wasn’t any one thing. It was all of it together, and it made me feel like they didn’t want me there.
About a month in, I told HR it didn’t sit right with me. He talked to them, and it stopped.
Later, the guy who was training me came over:
“Wey, disculpa si te hicimos sentir mal, no está chido… pero tú mándanos a la verga si algo… no hay agüite. Qué bueno que levantaste la mano.”
(Roughly: “Sorry if we made you feel bad, it’s not cool. Just tell us to fuck off if anything, no hard feelings. Glad you raised your hand.”)