Hindsight is 20/20, as they say. (and yes, this is another rant)
I am disappointed.
Someone whom I respected and trusted has turned out to be unworthy of it.
I have realized that what I thought was respect was cowardice. And why is he so cowardly? Because, apparently, he is acutely aware that I have a uterus, and it, in his view, makes me unstable. Never mind the quality of work I do; never mind my integrity. All that matters is that I have to sit down to pee--no writing my name in the snow for this girl.
How did I realize this?
The latest in a long line of mis-communications and disappointing changes in my immediate supervisors caused me to discuss the changes with him. He acted like I was asking him "Do these pants make me look fat?" (Nevermind that I don't generally ask that question because I'm fully aware that my fat makes me look fat.)
He couldn't get away from me fast enough.
I had another reason to be angry the other day--I was outside, as I choose to be, but in 40 degree temps that lead me to need a heater that works. It's important to stress the *that works* part, because I had a heater--a heater that I have repeatedly told Burt Lahr couldn't heat a hot cup of coffee on a hot July afternoon.
My feet are cold and hurting, even though I was dressed for the weather, including thick hunting socks and my break is late. Not just a little to-be-expected late, but LATE. As in, probably not coming. I called to find out if it was actually coming, and got told "I'm covering this, I'll be out soon." Soon, apparently, is an hour from now.
The break did finally show up. I went inside, mad as a wet hen (which isn't attractive, and I hate being). My feet start to thaw. I go to where I know there was a heater earlier in the year. I cannot find it. Someone else asks me what's going on, and I tell her. SHE calls and tells them to get me a heater THAT WORKS.
A heater, that works, shows up. But not from the Cowardly Lion--he sends someone else.
How disturbing is it that I am supposedly respected, trusted, and appreciated, especially considering that I don't complain about the weather and rarely complain about how cold (or hot) I am outside, yet, in the 18+ months I have been telling the Lion that the heater does NOT work, it takes a state of high piss off and someone else telling him to get me a heater that will actually stave off the frostbite to get me a heater that works.
These two incidents coupled together show me that I am not respected--and that it's probably because ol' Burt is spending too much time thinking about the panties he's busy assuming are in a twist all the time.
How pathetic is that?
It also explains why, last year, he was totally unable to handle a situation that was rapidly becoming unbearable. I thought he just had some blind spot for that woman; now, I realize that it was a total and absolute inability to deal with effectively 1/2 the population.
All I have worked for is to be taken seriously, to be respected for the quality of work I do, and to be treated fairly. I don't run around acting like *a woman*, and I don't trot out my uterus AT ALL when I am at work. The closest I come to that is if I am in a foul hormonal mood, I may let others I work with know that, so if I don't seem friendly, they know it's not about them. That I've got a foul hormonal peri-menopausal body that we can all find revolting.
I strive to be at least as good, if not better, than the men in that building. I strive to keep my being a woman the last thing to consider when dealing with me. Apparently, it's not enough. Having visible breasts is a handicap, and that uterus? Well, that must be the cause for everything--especially the bad.
It pisses me off to no end to realize that not only does the Cowardly Lion not deserve my respect, but that he can't treat me as an equal because I am, horror of horrors, a WOMAN.
What a load of week old warmed by the summer sunshine shit.
I am disappointed.
Someone whom I respected and trusted has turned out to be unworthy of it.
I have realized that what I thought was respect was cowardice. And why is he so cowardly? Because, apparently, he is acutely aware that I have a uterus, and it, in his view, makes me unstable. Never mind the quality of work I do; never mind my integrity. All that matters is that I have to sit down to pee--no writing my name in the snow for this girl.
How did I realize this?
The latest in a long line of mis-communications and disappointing changes in my immediate supervisors caused me to discuss the changes with him. He acted like I was asking him "Do these pants make me look fat?" (Nevermind that I don't generally ask that question because I'm fully aware that my fat makes me look fat.)
He couldn't get away from me fast enough.
I had another reason to be angry the other day--I was outside, as I choose to be, but in 40 degree temps that lead me to need a heater that works. It's important to stress the *that works* part, because I had a heater--a heater that I have repeatedly told Burt Lahr couldn't heat a hot cup of coffee on a hot July afternoon.
My feet are cold and hurting, even though I was dressed for the weather, including thick hunting socks and my break is late. Not just a little to-be-expected late, but LATE. As in, probably not coming. I called to find out if it was actually coming, and got told "I'm covering this, I'll be out soon." Soon, apparently, is an hour from now.
The break did finally show up. I went inside, mad as a wet hen (which isn't attractive, and I hate being). My feet start to thaw. I go to where I know there was a heater earlier in the year. I cannot find it. Someone else asks me what's going on, and I tell her. SHE calls and tells them to get me a heater THAT WORKS.
A heater, that works, shows up. But not from the Cowardly Lion--he sends someone else.
How disturbing is it that I am supposedly respected, trusted, and appreciated, especially considering that I don't complain about the weather and rarely complain about how cold (or hot) I am outside, yet, in the 18+ months I have been telling the Lion that the heater does NOT work, it takes a state of high piss off and someone else telling him to get me a heater that will actually stave off the frostbite to get me a heater that works.
These two incidents coupled together show me that I am not respected--and that it's probably because ol' Burt is spending too much time thinking about the panties he's busy assuming are in a twist all the time.
How pathetic is that?
It also explains why, last year, he was totally unable to handle a situation that was rapidly becoming unbearable. I thought he just had some blind spot for that woman; now, I realize that it was a total and absolute inability to deal with effectively 1/2 the population.
All I have worked for is to be taken seriously, to be respected for the quality of work I do, and to be treated fairly. I don't run around acting like *a woman*, and I don't trot out my uterus AT ALL when I am at work. The closest I come to that is if I am in a foul hormonal mood, I may let others I work with know that, so if I don't seem friendly, they know it's not about them. That I've got a foul hormonal peri-menopausal body that we can all find revolting.
I strive to be at least as good, if not better, than the men in that building. I strive to keep my being a woman the last thing to consider when dealing with me. Apparently, it's not enough. Having visible breasts is a handicap, and that uterus? Well, that must be the cause for everything--especially the bad.
It pisses me off to no end to realize that not only does the Cowardly Lion not deserve my respect, but that he can't treat me as an equal because I am, horror of horrors, a WOMAN.
What a load of week old warmed by the summer sunshine shit.
1 comment:
Yanno, I think there were similar causes at the very root of my recent proctologist rant.
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