Monday, April 12, 2010

There is no sisterhood and I don`t care

posted Fri, 29 Sep 2006

I got the schedule for one of my face-to-face interviews. Two men, two women.


Some of them think there’s room for only one queen. They don’t know that I don’t care if I even become a knight.

I don’t do well interviewing with women.

OK. I know I’m basing this statement on the one interview where the interviewer hated my guts and I hated hers pretty much the second we met each other, but I have other evidence.

Let me expand that statement: I don’t do well with women in positions of power. Or, better stated, they don’t do well with me. Is that better? It’s as if they think there is room for only one woman at the top and honey, they’re it and don’t even think of trying to look over their shoulder to peek out the window because that’s their view and they’re not sharing.

I don’t even want the stupid corner office anyhow! Don’t they know how lazy I really am?

But I promised you evidence.

Ever since I started working in corporate America, I have worked with mostly men in male-dominated industries. Sure, there have always been other women around, but the majority of them have been in support positions. I always get along great with the secretaries, receptionists and customer service reps. We talk about women things and goof off and have a good time.

But if there’s a woman director or VP, she won’t give me the time of day. Not that I’m asking for the time of day, understand me – I got over my “let’s all sing ‘Kum-Bay-Yah’ because we’re all women” days a long, long time ago. I would like merely to have my being another woman not work against me.

That’s all. Treat me like one of the guys. That’s fine. But do not stab me in the back just because I am the other woman and hence a perceived threat for the “woman’s” spot in the organization.

This is not my imagination. In my first job out of college, the one woman director wouldn’t even say “hello” to me in the hallway. In the spirit of fairness, there was another woman director who later became my boss who was great, so maybe director number one was just a witch.

In my last job, the VP was a woman. She committed many crimes, including sitting with her legs sprawled open, wearing ugly shoes and clothes, and letting her bra straps slip out from her sleeveless sweaters (she didn’t follow the dress code she had implemented when she was in charge of HR!), but I’ll stick to the ones relevant to moi.

In meetings, she would let all the guys give their presentations, but when it was my turn, she would cut me off. “Yeah, yeah, we got that,” she’d say. “We’re running late.” And I had to stop. I never got to finish my very important presentation. Other people noticed. It got to where I tied to pack as much as possible into my first slide because I knew I’d never get to the second. I finally gave up. I couldn’t fight her. She would win, no matter what.

But I always wore my shortest skirts to the meetings because she had awful legs. Ha.

I’d rather interview with men.

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