Environmental protection is something I am passionate about. And the peacock in me thought: why not work for a famous company everyone on the planet knows?
So I chose Tesla and got in. I believed I was joining a company genuinely changing the world, surrounded by people working hard to save the planet. And yes — it would look good on my CV.
What I didn't know:
- That a colleague would take seven bottles of water every morning — one for each hour — despite there being a water machine ten steps away, and despite the fact that bringing her own mug would save a lot of plastic.
- That another colleague would use five or six paper towels to dry her hands, even though one or two would be enough.
- That I would work until midnight on my very first day — on work that meant nothing and went nowhere.
- That so much energy would go into performing productivity: busy-looking work designed so that your manager could report upward, and her manager could report upward, and so on, infinitely, pointlessly.
- That most people around me were unhappy — that the monthly salary and the stock options were the only reason many of them stayed.
- That HR would consider the Tesla name itself a form of compensation — that the prestige of working there was supposed to make up the salary for "Such A Job".
What I know now: something that looks good from the outside doesn't always look good from the inside. What companies broadcast can just be marketing. And what you think you'll love isn't always what you actually love when you're living it.
But back then — early in my career, full of uncertainty and under psychological pressure at work — I was afraid. I didn't trust what I was seeing. I didn't know if what I was feeling was valid.
I wished I'd had someone who had walked that path before me. Someone I could have just talked to.
