Where my bitches at?
In honor of blogstalkers who are out there hiding in the bushes (*waves, with one finger*), I submit to you the following post. If they want to read, then fine, I’ll make it interesting!
I’m used to working with women. And I hate women, especially those in authority positions. Now, remember, I am a female with authority and always have been, but I’ve surprised my charges by being cool and not making their lives miserable — I don’t punish people for who they are, especially when they have aching ovaries every month that provide pain enough!
These days, I work with men. It was very important for me to enter a male-dominated environment this time around. I am the only chick on the immediate team, and one of three in the grander scheme of things. And, I adore it. I adore them.
You know why? Because I always bumped heads with women in charge of me. I’ve never had a pleasant experience with female supervisors or others in charge of something or other. It’s this unspoken competition — on their part and, reactively, on mine — to be Alpha Bitch. When I was fresh out of college and brand-new to this surreal place called an office, my supervisor and I used to go 10 rounds over whose ideas were better. Because hers sucked, from my view, and because I was too young to have anything constructive to contribute, from her view.
Fast-forward a few years later, and the situation is intensified — I worked with someone who just always had to be right. You could have made the exact same decision in a given situation that she would have, but she somehow managed to find fault with it because she wasn’t the one who got to make the call. She was also hard on the men on her team, but we women were the ones who really got pounded with frustration and anxiety attacks. Luckily, I ended up getting out of harm’s way and reported to the coolest guy on the team, who acted as the “dry-weave” shield between me and Psycho Bitch. I love him, and we are still buddies to this day. 🙂
Without pointing fingers (figure out WHICH finger!), I can easily say that women in the rank-and-file have a tough time in the workplace, in general. I cannot name ONE job (save for this one) where I was not harassed or ridiculed for the length of my skirts or the fit of a shirt or how much cleavage they thought was too much or, in the case of the last crown jewel, for my hairstyle. Yes, I had to change my hair to please THEM. My hair, of course, being a sore subject for me my whole life, but that’s a subject for another day. But, did any of these armchair judges ever cough up extra wages or a bonus to PAY for having to accommodate their requests? Hardly.
The thing is, when you start a job, you’re nervous because you don’t know how the system works, nor do you know who is eyeballing you in search of reasons to talk about you (or give you a talking-to). You don’t know the best driving routes or parking places or where to go for lunch. And, certainly, you don’t have any fluency in the job that you so eagerly wanted because you just haven’t had time to get into your groove yet. But when you work with women, those issues are the least of your worries.
Luckily, for me, where I am now, I am starting to get comfortable with the environment and the tasks, and I know enough about it to figure out more things when they arise. I still have a long ways to go, but when you feel good about yourself and know that others are happy to have you there, well, that’s the best feeling ever. That’s all I have to worry about, and I know that everything that seems so confounding right now won’t always be. And, I am pleased to not have the pressure anymore of having people looking down their noses at me — nobody’s scrutinizing my outfits, nobody’s commenting on whatever shade of eye shadow I wear, nobody’s said word one about my hair (hell, nobody even noticed that I dyed it! If I were dating any of these men, I might have been offended, but if they don’t notice such an obvious detail, hell, I’m happy!). And, I love it. Love it to death, I say.
What I will say, though, is that if I were working for a woman, then I’d have an extra layer of nervousness. A thick layer — one that would require constant primping to keep in check, at least on the surface. In the traditional workplace, presentation is often more important than substance. You are required to “look the part” and always be smiling and always be pleasing in case a guest should drop by. Work is secondary.
I’ve never subscribed to that theory. I bust my ass and do so quite happily. If my hair looks like hell (and I’ve given up and tied it in a knot) or if my skirt is three inches above my knees instead of one inch above it, well guess what — it doesn’t compromise my abilities one stinking bit. If I speak in a manner that is, um, creative or stand firm on my beliefs and opinions to the point of having to defend myself when called to do so, then I expect people to get over their sense of decorum of what they think is “ladylike” and treat me like the equal I am. My bullshit tolerance is at zero — maybe at two on a nice day. 🙂
From the beginning, I liked Cool Boss and therefore knew I would like Dream Job. There is a certain realness in the supervisory relationship that I haven’t experienced since the last time I was supervised by a male. And, maybe my thoughts set the feminist movement back a few steps, but until women with power choose to stop strangling their sense of humanity with their pantyhose, I will continue to keep it so that most of my colleagues as well as my friends are of the gender that can’t tell you what color the suit was that I wore yesterday. 😉
On iTunes: Sarah McLachlan, “Perfect Girl”
February 10th, 2005 at 8:27 AM
And the whole situation is f’ing ridiculous. Women have had to scratch and claw for everything we’ve fought and won in the workplace and instead of turning to our sisters we turn against them. Hello? Can you say snake eating itself?
Each of us is different and has a different sense of what is “appropriate office decorum.” Every office is also different and yes, we have to do our part to fit in in the office culture. But for the love of Pete could we stop trampling on one another’s creativity and spirit.
Rather than proving oneself as the alpha bitch, the woman in charge should be doing her damndest to mentor the younger/junior women in her charge. She should be firm but understanding. The superior is not everyone’s mother NOR SHOULD SHE TRY TO BE! The superior just happens to be in charge with more responsibility. Those in positions of responsibility should lead by example and not brow beat staff members…female OR male.
February 10th, 2005 at 9:57 AM
So no more gay guy friends? Because you know we pay attention to those things. 😉
michael
mikeiam.net
February 10th, 2005 at 3:30 PM
Corporate America sucks. So says this wage slave.
February 11th, 2005 at 12:08 AM
Not saying men can’t be dicks, but women are just cruel. It’s like they take all the years when THEY were shat upon and get their revenge. That is NOT worth it to me. I would rather, like Amy said, be a mentor and nurture them and see them flourish. I’ve done that, and the results have been amazing. It’s a wonder the rest of us aren’t more bitter than we already are over our own wretched treatment.
Gay guys … hmm. I’ve cut down my harem quite a bit. I’m not interested in dick that I can’t have, quite frankly. 😉 Gay men are actually less bitchy than many straight females, so they don’t qualify for this particular rant. But I needed your help accessorizing this morning, love!!! Where were you?!?! LOL
Corporate America does bite. But what I’ve learned (the hard way) is to bite back and sometimes swallow, but definitely spit it out when you can. ‘Cause that shit leaves a NASTY aftertaste! 😉
February 11th, 2005 at 8:00 PM
We are going to get two Googlebombs. Please help us by linking phrases Tortured Logic and Mad Bomber to the sites that I linked them.
We almost got one of those googlebombs. Look at here.