Have you ever heard that little voice inside your head say, "That's odd..." and then you quickly smothered the bitch and burned the body so as to hide the evidence?
Bad call, my friend. Bad call.
I sat across from my potential employer and took it all in. Coat rack with one umbrella, but no coats. Orchid in a charcoal grey pot, with two blooming burgundy flowers and a third bud about to open. Ornate desk lamp with burgundy shade matched to orchids. Mini calendar featuring dogs. Crumpled piece of paper filled with crayon stick figures and proclaiming love for grandma taped to the closed, modular shelving. Paperwork in tidy stacks. Bookcase filled with books about managing employees and properly negotiating difficult work scenarios. And the woman herself: 60-ish, designer glasses, perfectly coifed hair dyed a dark blonde, black pants and an ivory shirt with printed bows on it that somehow did not match the personality of the woman in front of me.
She explained the department and how it contributed to the whole, but I admit, listening is not my strong suit when I'm nervous. I smiled awkwardly and didn't really digest her words until she began to flip through the packet of writing examples I'd provided and relayed the specifics of the job I was interviewing for. Those specifics included occasional meetings beginning at 7am of which I'd be expected to take minutes (yuck), scheduling meetings (boring), and writing. I distinctly remember there being writing by way of white papers, newsletters, and other materials. Writing. The magic word.
Enter the blip on the radar (aside from the 7am bit for a non-morning person):
She asked, "How do you handle conflict?"
"I tend to tread lightly until I have a better understanding of the circumstances."
"What if you come in and I'm very quiet and it's obvious something is wrong?"
"Again, I tread lightly because whatever is going on could be personal and someone might not want to talk about it."
"Well, I need someone who can come in and drag out of me whatever the problem is."
Danger, Will Robinson! You expect a new employee to come in and badger you for information if you seem a little emotional or angry? What is this - therapy? If so, may I just say, untrained. Highly untrained. And, will need to be paid a lot more money.
And here is where we will end the beginning story, but first let's discuss:
First, why are women such an enormous pain in the ass? You don't get shit like this from men unless their some kind of patsy. Women get bad reputations for this kind of thing, so why is it perpetuated? Wouldn't you like to break free from the proverbial glass ceiling and don't you think that's more likely to happen if you're direct and honest as opposed to moody and indifferent? And what would this mean for me as her lackey - an emotional, temperamental nutjob of a boss?
Secondly, at a near retirement age of 60-ish, how is it that this is the communication style she's chosen? At 35 I realize this technique is both childish and circumventive. It's better to air one's grievances willingly rather than let something fester ... isn't it? And what if the problem wasn't me, but a spouse or child or co-worker or Dr. Seuss - well, what then? A chaise lounge and a legal pad so the emotional scrutiny can begin?
Is it wrong to just want to go to work, do a job well, and then go home without the bullshit?
Bad call, my friend. Bad call.
I sat across from my potential employer and took it all in. Coat rack with one umbrella, but no coats. Orchid in a charcoal grey pot, with two blooming burgundy flowers and a third bud about to open. Ornate desk lamp with burgundy shade matched to orchids. Mini calendar featuring dogs. Crumpled piece of paper filled with crayon stick figures and proclaiming love for grandma taped to the closed, modular shelving. Paperwork in tidy stacks. Bookcase filled with books about managing employees and properly negotiating difficult work scenarios. And the woman herself: 60-ish, designer glasses, perfectly coifed hair dyed a dark blonde, black pants and an ivory shirt with printed bows on it that somehow did not match the personality of the woman in front of me.
She explained the department and how it contributed to the whole, but I admit, listening is not my strong suit when I'm nervous. I smiled awkwardly and didn't really digest her words until she began to flip through the packet of writing examples I'd provided and relayed the specifics of the job I was interviewing for. Those specifics included occasional meetings beginning at 7am of which I'd be expected to take minutes (yuck), scheduling meetings (boring), and writing. I distinctly remember there being writing by way of white papers, newsletters, and other materials. Writing. The magic word.
Enter the blip on the radar (aside from the 7am bit for a non-morning person):
She asked, "How do you handle conflict?"
"I tend to tread lightly until I have a better understanding of the circumstances."
"What if you come in and I'm very quiet and it's obvious something is wrong?"
"Again, I tread lightly because whatever is going on could be personal and someone might not want to talk about it."
"Well, I need someone who can come in and drag out of me whatever the problem is."
Danger, Will Robinson! You expect a new employee to come in and badger you for information if you seem a little emotional or angry? What is this - therapy? If so, may I just say, untrained. Highly untrained. And, will need to be paid a lot more money.
And here is where we will end the beginning story, but first let's discuss:
First, why are women such an enormous pain in the ass? You don't get shit like this from men unless their some kind of patsy. Women get bad reputations for this kind of thing, so why is it perpetuated? Wouldn't you like to break free from the proverbial glass ceiling and don't you think that's more likely to happen if you're direct and honest as opposed to moody and indifferent? And what would this mean for me as her lackey - an emotional, temperamental nutjob of a boss?
Secondly, at a near retirement age of 60-ish, how is it that this is the communication style she's chosen? At 35 I realize this technique is both childish and circumventive. It's better to air one's grievances willingly rather than let something fester ... isn't it? And what if the problem wasn't me, but a spouse or child or co-worker or Dr. Seuss - well, what then? A chaise lounge and a legal pad so the emotional scrutiny can begin?
Is it wrong to just want to go to work, do a job well, and then go home without the bullshit?
Tell me what your little voice told you that you completely ignored ... until later.
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