Don’t Hand Me the Puzzle and Hide the Picture

I got handed a task. I did it. Not recklessly, not carelessly—just differently. And when my coworker saw the result, she didn’t ask why. She didn’t listen. She just corrected. Loudly. Like her way was the only way and mine was a detour through incompetence.

I tried to explain. She didn’t want the explanation. She wanted obedience. So I’m done taking her work. Not out of spite—out of self-respect.

Here’s the thing: I’m always in a rush to learn. Not because I’m lazy, but because I know I’m capable. I just don’t have all the pieces. It’s like being handed a puzzle with half the edges missing and no picture on the box. And then being told I’m slow for not finishing it faster.

I don’t want sympathy. I want access. I want the same challenges, the same trust, the same damn respect. I want to be let in on the secret instead of being left to guess the rules while everyone else plays the game.

I know I can do this. I just need people to stop gatekeeping the information and start treating me like I belong here.

Because I do.