When compassion became a full-time job we never signed up for

Look, I get it. Being a working mom is hard. Between packing lunches, juggling soccer practice schedules, and somehow keeping the house from looking like a disaster zone, we all have our plates full. But what happens when one coworker decides her struggles mean the rest of us should carry her weight? Let me tell you about Kristina.

She joined our team about a year ago. At first, she seemed perfectly nice—just inexperienced. She told us upfront she was new to the field, so we all pitched in to train her. Our department is mostly women, and we've always had each other's backs. That's just how we roll.

But learning came slowly. Really slowly. We'd explain the same procedures over and over, and somehow, she'd still mess them up. The work wasn't rocket science—just required attention to detail and following established protocols. Every time we'd point out a mistake, she'd apologize and say she couldn't focus because her daughter had just started preschool and she was constantly worrying. "You know how it is," she'd say.

Actually, I do know how it is. Most of us in the office have kids. We've all been through the preschool transition, the sick days, the mom guilt. But we managed to do our jobs.

Then came the early departures. Doctor's appointments, picking up her daughter early, some emergency or another. She'd leave at lunch and we wouldn't see her until the next morning. Of course, we let her go—we're not monsters. But here's the thing: she couldn't even finish her work in a full eight-hour day. Half a day? Forget about it.

And guess who picked up the slack? The rest of us.

Our boss still expected results. So we'd finish our own tasks, then divide up Kristina's unfinished work among ourselves. No extra pay. No acknowledgment. Just the expectation that we'd handle it because we're "team players."

Then it got worse. Her daughter would get sick—as kids do—but instead of taking official sick leave, Kristina convinced management to let her stay home off the books. Why? Because taking proper leave would affect her paycheck, and she's a single mom who "can't afford to lose a dime."

Here's what burns me up: when someone takes official leave, whoever covers their work gets compensated. But since Kristina's absences weren't on paper, we were just expected to absorb her workload for free. This happened at least once every two months—sometimes for a week or two at a time.

After a year of this, we'd had enough. We tried talking to her directly, but she'd just get defensive. "You don't understand how hard it is," she'd say. "I'm raising a child alone. My head is spinning."

Honey, we ALL have things spinning in our heads. That's called being an adult.

So we went to management. And you know what they said?

"She's a single mom. We need to be understanding. You ladies have always supported each other—why are you turning on her now?"

Why? Because nobody else ever had the audacity to take advantage like this. There's a difference between occasionally helping a colleague and permanently doing someone else's job.

So we made a decision. From now on, Kristina does her own work. No more covering, no more fixing her mistakes, no more staying late to finish what she couldn't be bothered to complete. We carried her for a year. Enough is enough.

If management feels so sorry for her, they can pick up her slack themselves.