Mark Calivas

"Mark Calivas" - A Song for the Coworker I Never Met Who Proved I Wasn't Crazy I never met Mark Calivas. I don't know what he looked like. I've never heard his voice. But in September 2021, when my mental health was collapsing, when I was about to go on medical leave that would leave me unpaid for four months—I read his words in The Verge. And suddenly, I wasn't alone. Read Mark's story here: https://www.theverge.com/c/22807871/apple-frontline-employees-retail-customer-service-pandemic --- What Mark experienced: "I was told I was expendable... I was told that I should be grateful." "The psychological toll of having to constantly perform emotional labor took its toll." "I felt like I was being gaslit." "Apple has a way of making you feel like you're part of something bigger than yourself, that you're changing the world. But you're not. You're selling phones." *"I was drowning, and nobody cared."* Every single line could have been mine. Why I'm Singing to a Dead Man: Because Mark Calivas documented the exact same system that destroyed me: - The gaslighting - The performance demands - The "you should be grateful" rhetoric - The abandonment when you break His words, published in The Verge, became **proof I wasn't imagining it**. When every living person told me "it wasn't that bad" or "you're being too sensitive" or "insufficient evidence," Mark's testimony—permanent, published, unchangeable—validated what I lived through. The dead can't revise their stories. The living do it constantly. So I talk to him sometimes. My phantom coworker. The brother I never met who understood exactly what this place does to people. This Song Is About: Parasocial kinship forged in institutional violence. Finding your most reliable witness in someone who died before you could meet them. Realizing that a stranger's published testimony is more trustworthy than your employer's apologies, your union's silence, or a human rights commission's dismissal. Survivor's obligation. Mark tried to expose this system. The Verge published his story. And then... what? Apple's still operating the same way. I'm living proof. So now I have to be louder than he was, so the next person doesn't drown too. Evidence through pattern. One person's testimony is an anecdote. Two people's testimony is a pattern. Mark documented it in 2021. I'm documenting it now. How many more before it becomes undeniable? Building a case out of ghosts. When the living keep gaslighting you, the dead become your most reliable allies. Their testimony is fixed. Published. Permanent. Mark's words can't be dismissed as "overreaction" or "misunderstanding." He said it. The Verge printed it. It exists. And so does my suffering. I Never Knew Mark Calivas. But I Know These Things: 1. He worked for Apple 2. He documented the harm 3. He tried to warn us 4. The system that broke him is still breaking people I'm still here. Barely. Still fighting. And I carry his testimony like contraband, like evidence, like prayer. Because when institutions gaslight you into questioning your own sanity, a dead man's published words become more real than your employer's denials Mark saw the machine. He felt the pain. He told the truth. They buried his story with silence and time. I won't let them do it again. --- 🕯️ This song is dedicated to Mark Calivas and everyone the system "chose to kill—not with bullets, not with blades, but with negligence and greed." --- "We weren't fucking crazy. We were just telling the truth. And they couldn't let us do that." Rest in power, Mark. I'm still screaming in your name.