Fair warning: contains something regarding shark week that might be upsetting to read. I am not subtle about it, because it is not a subtle thing.
I acquired a new job some time ago and managed to navigate the hiring process without a single person knowing my history.
I'm assumed to be and treated as Joe Anyguy, which is awesome. I'm finally a functioning adult out in the work force.
But there's the paranoia. We (I and the rest of my household) are on a form of government assistance and this came up at work. I was (and continue to be) terrified that this will somehow, at some point, lead to being outed at work. The scenarios in my head usually play out with a government employee contacting work and for who-knows-why saying, "Yes, I'm contacting you about a MS. [full name]" or "Yes, I'm contacting you about [name] formally [birth name]" or otherwise somehow, for no reason, revealing that I'm in their records as female. Perhaps contacting work simply in regards to "[full name]", the person at work saying "Blah blah, he" and being met with "He? That's odd, [full name] is in our records as female".
It's so bad I'm constantly, heavily considering dropping out of the assistance program even though we still qualify and could still really use the help. I've racked my brains trying to figure out if we could possibly scrape by without the assistance. I know that if we could, things would be extremely tight. But I am very, very tempted to drop the program just to not have that remote possibility hanging over my head, because if I get outed at work I'm not sure I could cope with it even if everyone were 100% cool about it (and I find that unlikely). I need that no one knows. At work there is never that split second, audible hesitation before someone refers to me, that I constantly hear from people who knew me pre-transition. I need that.
I've taken steps to assure that people who knew me pre-transition will never come see me at work on the off chance that they could slip up.
I'm additionally paranoid that, despite a complete lack of any hint of shark week since starting T, that someday at work the inner workings will suddenly spew forth like something out of a Tarantino flick. I can't begin to imagine how to salvage a situation like that. "Oh, that, yep... nope I don't need to go to the emergency room... nothing to be alarmed about, just an old... injury tearing open again, yeah that's what it is, guess I'd better see my doctor about it again." Being able to afford a hysterectomy is a long way off.
It's so bad I hesitate to post this even though there's no identifying details whatsoever. I'd hoped if I'd stuck it out for awhile the paranoia would sort of subside on its own. Instead as time goes on I keep thinking of more (admittedly improbable) ways I could end up outed at work.
I need advice from someone who's been through a similar level of paranoia, if possible. Thanks.