Women in the office

"Where do you fit in because I don't hear your name," said a DG of Personnel to me many years ago when he took over as my boss.  Turns out, he was a real jerk.  He didn't last, but I did.  The first thing he did was build an outer foyer to his office so no one could get past his bulldog secretary and anywhere near him.  I mean, seriously, this guy was head of HR and didn't want to deal with people?!

Totally political, his attitude and actions did him in.  Me?  I outlasted a lot of his type and managed to hang in until I got a nice pension.  A few years after he disappeared, I saw him schlepping around the lawn-and-garden department of a local supermarket in Ottawa.  I went up and asked him what had happened?  He walked away; I was still employed, he was not.

That's what one did in the federal government.  One kept one's head down, kept the field agents happy and did all the "beneath me" jobs no one else would.  I volunteered as the Floor Warden and the Health and Safety rep, which afforded me a parallel network when my various (female) bosses were giving me a hard time.  You should have seen me during fire drills, with my helmet, flashlight and high heels directing the evacuation of the building.  Hilarious!

I remember once charging $14 to our cost centre for some health-and-safety signs and getting an officious email from my then manager (female) asking by what authority I had charged this?  She wasn't actually "asking", she was informing me I had had no business charging $14 without her famous approval.  What did I do?  I forwarded her email to the ADM on the committee with me, who promptly sent me his cost centre number and told me to charge it to him. 

She looked like the insecure b-tch she was and it was fun outing her.  See, that's what I mean, I had a backdoor channel to this ADM because I did jobs no one else would.  Every few months, for instance, I had to go to all floors with a device that checked the microwaves to be sure they weren't leaking.  Stuff like that.  You get the picture. 

So, it was with mixed feelings that I read yesterday of the untimely death of one ADM (female) I worked for.  Only 68, she had been parachuted in for various political and gender reasons, I presume.  When she arrived, she held a now-hear-this meeting with all of us and then never spoke to me again.  That was fine because I ran a field program and was just as happy to have no interference from her "type".  She was just another example of a woman who didn't like certain other women, of whom I guess I was one.  Years later, I used to see her at our golf club and she actually had no clue who I was?!  Totally ignored me, as she had in the office.  But I did post a notice on her obituary simply offering "condolences to the family".

Another woman for whom I worked in Fisheries and Oceans also died recently.  She really hated me, to the extent that she ordered me to leave the office and never return.  So, I had a two-month free holiday until I was picked up by an ADM at the Office of the Comptroller General to do an in-depth study on the value-added of the OCG.  Not much, it turned out.  What fun it was chairing meetings this woman had to attend about projects we were undertaking, but I guess not fun for her.  Another RIP in order here.

When I think back, every, single woman I worked for did not like me.  Often it was because they didn't like the ugly stench of truth which usually hung all over me.  One incident in particular I remember concerned the disastrous 1-800 lines at the CRA.  They were always busy and inaccessible back then, which was duly reported by field agents to the program I ran.  Passing these realities up the line (I also had an agent in the deputy minister's office) often caused big trouble because no one -- Gawd forbid -- ever told the minister the truth about the latest eff-up in the field.

One Friday afternoon (Friday was always the day the report went up) I was called into our DG's (female) office to have a strip torn off me about the 1-800 line issues.  Really?  Really!  Me!?  Leaning over her desk I said, "Last time I checked, M, I was not responsible for the 1-800 lines.  I neither designed nor installed them.  You did.  Is that all?"  And I left.  Sadly, another case of a woman trying to blame another for her own mess.  Instead of helping female colleagues climb out of the stereotypical ditch, many women chose to stomp all over them as they tried to come out of it.  Close to retirement, I was in a lovely "untouchable" position and thus able to say anything.

When I retired, I just walked out of the office, after saying farewell to colleagues I had loved working with.  No party, no dinner.  Nothing.  But I was given a booklet with the most wonderful messages from many, many field agents, who had written heartfelt tributes to me for my work with them over the years.  Now that was worth keeping.         

What do I always say?  Women are their own worst enemies.