I was sitting in the audience in a beautiful hotel in mid-Missouri, listening to the best of the best voices sing when a few states west of me, a man was plotting, planning, and waiting to carry out an act of violence that took the lives of so many young people and rocked the nation to our collective core.
How is in, in this day, in 2012, that it is ok to freely purchase the assault rifles, ammunition, and guns that this decidedly intelligent yet sick young man was able to acquire? How is it that that is ok? It is not.
President Obama was completely correct yesterday, in the dawn after the news reports trickled and then flooded across the nation, that yesterday was not a day for politics, but a day for reflection and respect for those who lost their lives; time to comfort those who experienced terror. I had just returned home, having driven two hours, and was settling down when many people were planning a Friday night out to the movie opening, some had purchased their tickets weeks ahead of the anticipation. It was not until the morning, sitting over coffee, that I, like many, learned what unfolded the night before.
It hit a personal chord for me and perhaps others in my family, it has only been one week that we have memorialized a young, 20 year old, beautiful cousin who was killed in a random act of violence, gunfire unleashed in a crowd and her promise snuffed out. It is just all too hurtful and too real.
Someone commented that guns do not kill, people do, that is true, to a point, however, guns serve no purpose other than to incite fear and to kill, to maim, and to destroy, that is what happened in Aurora, Colorado.
It is a saddness and perhaps an awakening that is sweeping across our nation as Anacosta in DC and Chicago have been bathed in gunfire that has snuffed out the lives of so many. As Aurora, CO continues to recover and heal from this still-fresh tragedy. As a mother waits in Florida for justice to finally come for her teenage son whose promise was snuffed out by a lone wolf gunman, wanna be, who determined that newly minted 17 year old was a threat while walking home in the rain. See, guns give them a false sense of power, strength, and bravado, they flash guns to intimidate, silence, and control, to manipulate and maim. I strongly believe that there should be a ban on assault weapons, that a thorough background check should be for anyone who gets a firearm, that there is no 2nd amendment rights when it comes to semi-automatic weapons, machine guns, and clips that can shoot 100 rounds in a few seconds like this gunman in Colorado.
I pray for the peace and healing of the victims of this tragedy. I am proud of the multicultural community of Aurora, Colorado that has come together to support each other. I was impressed with how well spoken the myriad of young people were in communicating with the news media. The police chief has my respect because of how well he handled the situation and how he handled the press, him being careful with what is revealed so as not to jeopardize any legal proceedings, expressing concern for the victims. I am proud of the orchestrated effort and quick action of the city and I am happy that at least there, in that part of the country, the city officials did not strip down the public responders, the EMTs, the hospitals, the police force to just save a few bucks in an election year. The system worked in Colorado.
Healing will take time, understanding, the answer to the one question everyone asks, "why", may never be answered.
In all this, I hope we, the collective we, wake up and realize the humanity in us all and know that life is a precious thing.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Sometimes You Can Go Home Again
Sometimes, you can go
home again.
I am in my hometown for
a couple days. My son is in a jazz
performance here. This is the first time
I am here and not staying at my parent’s house.
It is weird. I’m visiting as a tourist.
The first thing I did
after checking into the hotel and getting him settled in his conference
workshop, was to search for coffee…and no Starbucks for me! I followed my instincts down High Street –
the downtown – and made it to my street.
I could not resist driving up the hill that as a kid we thought was so
big.
My house that really is
bigger than it looks; just looks so small on the outside! I own one that will
take up two of the houses on this block.
The back yard is still huge. I
drove to the “court” where we kids used to have bike races and then drove down
the hill to the “corner store” that was owned by a husband and wife. Wow.
I was snapping and
posting pictures as fast as I could safely do and drive at the same time. My elementary school and all those stairs,
the stairs up to the store! That grocery
store (changed hands, of course) used to capture a lot of my dad’s paycheck
what with six kids, five grandkids, and four adults to feed! I wonder how he did it!
Still being caffeine
deprived, my wanderings took me east and I found mecca in what used to be a
desert – even back then. An authentic,
real, coffee shop!
I parked my rental in
what used to be a hub of transient, low income homes that we were not allowed
to go as a kid. It is being rehab, all
with a sign calling for “entrepreneurs” to take part in the renovation that
includes upscale homes with “granite counters” .
The coffee shop made me
smile with the maintenance of the stained glass and the use of hard wood. I smiled even more when the barista told me
they could absolutely make me a hazelnut caramel almond milk latte. That and a homemade scone just made my sleep
deprived morning! I only had two hours
of sleep before driving the two hours to get here, I needed my caffeine and
that sip of 5-hour energy was not for me!
I am sitting here,
remembering and feeling the heat of our summers as a kid and wondering how we
managed to ride bikes, walk to the swimming pool, and generally just hang
outside turning two or three shades of chestnut brown. We did not have sunscreen or water bottles or
any of the things that parents slather their kids with today. My parents just told us to go out and play
and be home before dark, in the summer, that meant long, long walks, stops at
the corner store, coaxing across the bridge to get to the cool refreshing of
the pool.
Today, I am choosing to
remember the idyllic times growing up.
Summers touring the state capitol or perusing the volumes in the city
library. Stops through the shops
“uptown” and if we were really good and it was a Friday, ice cold Pepsi cola in
a bottle waiting for us for dinner.
Sometimes, you can come
home again and smile; it is part of what makes me who I am.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Writing Is The Air That Fills My Soul
One of the things I have noticed in these troubling, trying, and testing years of this Great Recession is that some people are taking a moment to reflect, to redirect, and to refocus on what really matters.
My journey to that place of knowing actually happened in May 2003 when I left my corporate job, the job that we moved to Kansas City for, the job that I thought would be mine for a few years. It was my blessing, the weight lifted off my shoulders, and my opportunity to breathe when I walked through those doors for the last time.
The years following have not been easy in pursuit of my dream, but they have been rewarding and have given me reason to take pen to paper, fingers to keyboard.
Writing is the air that fills my soul.
Living is not complete for me unless I am expressing it through words.
So I have focused on it, joined a writing group, dared to read some of my poetry in public, was commissioned to write a wedding poem, gained perspective, and kept writing.
I joined Helium.com at its inception and let it serve as my MFA while I was at home nursing a sick daughter to health. It helped me to hone my voice and discover more of my skills in narrative non-fiction. I earned writing stars and high ratings and even was channel steward.
My blogs came next, this one almost accidentally freed my soul at a time when things were dark and threatening to cloud out my joy. Writing became my escape and my respite.
Now, I write and manage three blogs, have registered my company so I can marry the writing with the marketing, after all, I didn't earn my MBA for nothing. I found a way to bring together my love of reading and love of writing through my book reviews. My creative self is exercised through my poetry and short story features. Any my heart, this blog, my narrative, my commentary on all things of life since my husband says I always have something to say, lives on. I had to shut her down for a moment when it seemed like an unwelcome guest was trying to get to someone else through me. Now that that is over, I can get back to what I do best.
Life is precious. We are all gifted with something that only we can do. There may be a million others doing what we are doing, but only we have our perspective, our voice, our story to tell.
I am breathing in, taking a moment, and filling my soul. I write because I live.
My journey to that place of knowing actually happened in May 2003 when I left my corporate job, the job that we moved to Kansas City for, the job that I thought would be mine for a few years. It was my blessing, the weight lifted off my shoulders, and my opportunity to breathe when I walked through those doors for the last time.
The years following have not been easy in pursuit of my dream, but they have been rewarding and have given me reason to take pen to paper, fingers to keyboard.
Writing is the air that fills my soul.
Living is not complete for me unless I am expressing it through words.
So I have focused on it, joined a writing group, dared to read some of my poetry in public, was commissioned to write a wedding poem, gained perspective, and kept writing.
I joined Helium.com at its inception and let it serve as my MFA while I was at home nursing a sick daughter to health. It helped me to hone my voice and discover more of my skills in narrative non-fiction. I earned writing stars and high ratings and even was channel steward.
My blogs came next, this one almost accidentally freed my soul at a time when things were dark and threatening to cloud out my joy. Writing became my escape and my respite.
Now, I write and manage three blogs, have registered my company so I can marry the writing with the marketing, after all, I didn't earn my MBA for nothing. I found a way to bring together my love of reading and love of writing through my book reviews. My creative self is exercised through my poetry and short story features. Any my heart, this blog, my narrative, my commentary on all things of life since my husband says I always have something to say, lives on. I had to shut her down for a moment when it seemed like an unwelcome guest was trying to get to someone else through me. Now that that is over, I can get back to what I do best.
Life is precious. We are all gifted with something that only we can do. There may be a million others doing what we are doing, but only we have our perspective, our voice, our story to tell.
I am breathing in, taking a moment, and filling my soul. I write because I live.
Friday, July 6, 2012
When The Heart Hurts and The Hands Need Something To Do
When angels take flight, unexpectedly, the rest of us are left wondering how to handle the flood of emotions, what to do to make it better, knowing we can not turn back the hands of time, can not bring them back, can not make it right.
What do we do?
We hug, we hold, we sit quietly, we console, we affirm our presence...and we cook.
Tragedy hit twice for me yesterday.
I received notice that a friend's daughter committed suicide. Once I confirmed it from reliable sources, I flew into action. My coffers were empty so I raced out to the coffee shop to pick up raspberry mini scones and iced coffee. I am not sure why food was the first thing I thought of.
After I returned home after absorbing the news of what would make a beautiful girl, about to enter her senior year, so suddenly and tragically take her own life, I received notice that another beautiful young woman, a college student, so loved, so full of life, was senselessly killed at an Independence Party the night before. The news was just starting to trickle to the vast outreaches of our family. I could not breathe.
It took me back to when my own son was fighting for his life. He is 25 now, older, wiser, and following his dreams, but dial back to when he was 19 and was the victim of a gunshot, I wondered if we would ever be at this day. That age, something about it makes them so vulnerable.
So sitting in my kitchen after talking to my cousin about the tragedy, thinking about my friend, remembering my son, I grabbed the chopping block and got to work. I just wanted to keep my kids close to me, I hugged my youngest son to me tightly and reminded him that there was nothing he couldn't talk to me about, that life is precious, and since he is going to college in Alabama, to stay out of the clubs. I was scared.
So I made this.
I served it with some organic brown rice and after sauteeing the vegetables in extra virgin olive oil, added some fresh mango, needed the sweet with the tangy and the bitter to remind me that life will go on, we will heal, and we will smile again, but last night, all I wanted was to cocoon, and nothing seemed better than some good food, hugs, and reminders of love.
What do we do?
We hug, we hold, we sit quietly, we console, we affirm our presence...and we cook.
Tragedy hit twice for me yesterday.
I received notice that a friend's daughter committed suicide. Once I confirmed it from reliable sources, I flew into action. My coffers were empty so I raced out to the coffee shop to pick up raspberry mini scones and iced coffee. I am not sure why food was the first thing I thought of.
After I returned home after absorbing the news of what would make a beautiful girl, about to enter her senior year, so suddenly and tragically take her own life, I received notice that another beautiful young woman, a college student, so loved, so full of life, was senselessly killed at an Independence Party the night before. The news was just starting to trickle to the vast outreaches of our family. I could not breathe.
It took me back to when my own son was fighting for his life. He is 25 now, older, wiser, and following his dreams, but dial back to when he was 19 and was the victim of a gunshot, I wondered if we would ever be at this day. That age, something about it makes them so vulnerable.
So sitting in my kitchen after talking to my cousin about the tragedy, thinking about my friend, remembering my son, I grabbed the chopping block and got to work. I just wanted to keep my kids close to me, I hugged my youngest son to me tightly and reminded him that there was nothing he couldn't talk to me about, that life is precious, and since he is going to college in Alabama, to stay out of the clubs. I was scared.
I served it with some organic brown rice and after sauteeing the vegetables in extra virgin olive oil, added some fresh mango, needed the sweet with the tangy and the bitter to remind me that life will go on, we will heal, and we will smile again, but last night, all I wanted was to cocoon, and nothing seemed better than some good food, hugs, and reminders of love.
Monday, July 2, 2012
Bully Girls = Mean Women
The topic of mean girls who grow up into women who bully in the workplace has been covered a lot in the media lately.
It could be that the economy is still trying to recover and a few of these mean girls are bosses. It could be that it was a slow news day and they needed something else about women to talk about since they've practically exhausted the GOP attack on all things vagina. Or it could be that it is a real issue that does psychological harm and that it is a real impediment to professional progress.
I tend to think it is the latter.
Mean girls who grow up to be women who bully in the workplace are much more dangerous than one would think. I should know, I had a bully boss.
My last major corporate position was with a privately held company in the midwest. There weren't that many women in management, a lot were at the junior management level, only a handful made it to marketing manager and only one or two were vice presidents. This boss of mine was a product manager, had been stuck at that spot for years and years, her boss, the marketing manager, had actually reported to her when he was in the same rotational program that I was in. I am setting the stage here, this woman had reached as far as she could go because she really wasn't qualified. She has a bachelor's degree and because her mother has once worked at the company at a high executive level, she had a job for life.
The mean bully woman cursed ad nauseum in the workplace and when called on it, made it a point to curse and degrade everyone in a department meeting. She was tolerated and feared by the entire department, even the male boss who let her do whatever she wanted, including sabatoging my budding career.
I came to the company fresh from my MBA program and had had stellar reviews all through my rotations. I was making strides in a company that had few woman who looked like me. I thought I would be with the company for a long time, as that was the bill of goods they sold everyone who was recruited from graduate school.
When I look back at that experience, sometimes I think I made the mistake of being somewhat given no choice but to accept the associate product manager position in this particular department. I had returned from a six-month-maternity-leave to find a very different company. It was now post 9-11 and several of my colleagues in the training program had been let go, some before they even finished rotation, all had moved to this decidedly midwestern city and bought houses because of the promises made by this company. A lot of departments had enacted hiring freezes and the rest were using rank-and-hank performance review tactics to lay off staff, despite their reputation as a company that never lays off. The air in the place was so thick you could cut it with a knife. The last thing was that the manager who had previously mentored and guided all of us associates through our rotational program had been reassigned and someone else was in her place, someone who did not value the executive-in-training program. It was a recipe for disaster.
My husband and I had moved to this midwestern city for this job. He essentially followed me since he was doing a post-doctoral research project and was planning to drive to the university two hours away. We had purchased a house and were getting acclimated to this border city on a border stateline.
Hindsight is 20-20.
I began my 18-month rotations with earnest, great ideas, and support. I had been offered a full-time position halfway through. It was in a department I admired with women who were all progressive. It was not the "cash cow" product line and therefore had the opportunity to be innovative and work with outside companies. I should have taken it, but, someone felt I should finish the rotations and get some time in the "core product line." My big mistake. My second big mistake was feeling like I had to accept the position I ended up in without waiting for the responses from the the other two (all internal, two were with subsidiaries in other cities). I should have take the subsidiary, especially since one was with a product line I had developed research reaching a new target audience and the other was one that interested me in innovation. Perhaps it was because we had already bought our house and my husband was half-way through his post-doc, I'm not sure, but I took the only opening.
The tiny little demon-in-mules was a terror.
My boss presented herself as all syrupy sweet, cooing over my infant daughter when my husband stopped by during lunch. She offered me two product lines and seemed to be helpful. Perhaps all of it was a guise to get past the three months that would have let me change my mind, she knew of the other offers and also knew that I was highly recruited to the company.
Then something shifted.
I had just returned from a product planning and research trip out west. I had completed an exhaustive competitive analysis and offered innovative ideas for the upcoming product line. I was finding out manufacturing processes on my own since my boss refused to do the teaching part of her job that all associate product managers were supposed to have. Nevertheless, I handled meetings, worked with the artists and writers, and was putting in time.
And she became a demon.
We were reorganized and had a new vice president of marketing and all the marketing and product managers were scurrying around hoping their product line would not be on the chopping block. She had a reputation for destroying careers, I found out later, and was secure in her spot due to her mom. She had reduced a male counterpart to actually begging to keep his job after she demoted him, berated him, and then reassigned him. I found this out later, also, when he came to my office to offer solace after a very terse interchange.
Mean girls engage in psychological warfare and tactics that can put even the most confident person off kilter. This was this type of person.
My final encounter with her was particularly bristling and unexpected. She literally came out of left field and unleashed a mouthful of expletives and condemnation and derogatory language on me that had me in stunned silence. I had worked in several entities in bigger cities and had never encountered anything like this. I had on my total shock face.
It was then that I learned that HR departments were not advocates for the employees but instruments for the corporation and that even the ombudsmen and diversity counsels were simply tools. No one would help because this woman was connected straight to the partners and had a position for life she was impenetrable.
My only recourse was to start looking for something else. Unfortunately for me at the time, I was pregnant and it was post 9-11 in a midwestern city that the only other major company had been laying off people left and right and left again.
I went to the marketing manager and told him what was going on and that since I was pregnant, I wasn't going to stay and risk losing my baby because of this woman's violent verbal assaults that were now coming almost daily. He wouldn't advocate for a transfer so I packed up my office one day when all the managers were at some retreat. It was over.
When I got into my van that last time in that corporate parking lot, I felt a sense of relief and burden lift from my shoulders. I had just lost a sizable income but felt in some ways I had gained back myself. I knew I couldn't continue to be in that department because her goal was not for me to leave the company, she was just a miserable woman who had a reputation of taking joy in cutting down junior associates. She had destroyed entire product lines in other departments and I never put the dots together that this was the same, infamous, "J...." who no one liked and everyone tolerated.
Fear seems to be the weapon and the condition of these women. This one turned her own inadequacies into weapons against other promising professionals who were sure to pass her up, she had already experienced it in two other departments before she ended up in the one where our paths crossed. Fear is also the weapon they use to intimidate others, especially since the economic great recession when many professionals have lost their careers and the new workplace is demanding 50-60 hour work weeks at 1/3rd the pay. They take pride and pleasure in how much pain they can inflict on others.
Good Morning America in 2011 did a report on bullying in the workplace that included women who confessed to being bullied and the damage it did to them.
CNN did a recent report on them and one of the male reviewers commented that men held some responsibilities because these women sometimes acted like this to gain attention from men or to break the glass ceiling. They think they have to cut down any other woman because surely there isn't room at the top for all of them. Their behavior is even worse if their staff is black or latina, they see them as a threat to be eliminated. The report went on to suggest that the majority of them are white, educated - though not highly, and from wealthier families, exactly the profile of the woman boss I endured, they have never been told their behavior was unacceptable and think their wealth or connections gives them a free pass to assassinate the character, esteem, and potential of others. They are manipulative and psychologically damaging, much like the high school character of a Lifetime Movie my daughter and I watched on Saturday. The ringleader preyed upon the weaknesses and/or fears of the others, often choosing a lesser person or characteristic to exploit, in my case, being the only MBA and only black and pregnant marketing professional in our department.
Just like bullying in high school is a problem that doesn't have an easy solution, so does bullying and mean women in the workplace. 27% of American workers report being bullied and at least one state has outlawed it. Maybe there is hope as more and more reports come out about the damage of bullying. CNN recently reported about a 20 year old who started an organization to combat mean girl behavior. From the report of school bus monitor, Karen Klein, who was bullied by a bunch of middle school boys, women are the brunt of that type of psychological and emotionally damaging bullying behavior more than men. It is also reported that 70% of women are bullied by other women, perhaps because women are relational.
As for me, I decided my sanity, self-esteem, and character was worth more than the salary of that position. I walked away. I am also teaching my 8 and 10 year old girls to advocate for themselves and to recognize bullying behavior. We talk about emotions and what some of their classmates do that can hurt the feelings of others. We also chat about when the sisters argue and when it steps over the line. I have hope that in these days of the Internet (we didn't have facebook or social media during my experience, I can only imagine it would be worse) and more awareness of the problem that more people will speak up and advocate for the victims of this type of emotional assault.
I've since had fulfilling opportunities to write, to teach, to lead a staff, to mentor, and to raise my children, and to me, it was worth packing up and walking away.
It could be that the economy is still trying to recover and a few of these mean girls are bosses. It could be that it was a slow news day and they needed something else about women to talk about since they've practically exhausted the GOP attack on all things vagina. Or it could be that it is a real issue that does psychological harm and that it is a real impediment to professional progress.
I tend to think it is the latter.
Mean girls who grow up to be women who bully in the workplace are much more dangerous than one would think. I should know, I had a bully boss.
My last major corporate position was with a privately held company in the midwest. There weren't that many women in management, a lot were at the junior management level, only a handful made it to marketing manager and only one or two were vice presidents. This boss of mine was a product manager, had been stuck at that spot for years and years, her boss, the marketing manager, had actually reported to her when he was in the same rotational program that I was in. I am setting the stage here, this woman had reached as far as she could go because she really wasn't qualified. She has a bachelor's degree and because her mother has once worked at the company at a high executive level, she had a job for life.
The mean bully woman cursed ad nauseum in the workplace and when called on it, made it a point to curse and degrade everyone in a department meeting. She was tolerated and feared by the entire department, even the male boss who let her do whatever she wanted, including sabatoging my budding career.
I came to the company fresh from my MBA program and had had stellar reviews all through my rotations. I was making strides in a company that had few woman who looked like me. I thought I would be with the company for a long time, as that was the bill of goods they sold everyone who was recruited from graduate school.
When I look back at that experience, sometimes I think I made the mistake of being somewhat given no choice but to accept the associate product manager position in this particular department. I had returned from a six-month-maternity-leave to find a very different company. It was now post 9-11 and several of my colleagues in the training program had been let go, some before they even finished rotation, all had moved to this decidedly midwestern city and bought houses because of the promises made by this company. A lot of departments had enacted hiring freezes and the rest were using rank-and-hank performance review tactics to lay off staff, despite their reputation as a company that never lays off. The air in the place was so thick you could cut it with a knife. The last thing was that the manager who had previously mentored and guided all of us associates through our rotational program had been reassigned and someone else was in her place, someone who did not value the executive-in-training program. It was a recipe for disaster.
My husband and I had moved to this midwestern city for this job. He essentially followed me since he was doing a post-doctoral research project and was planning to drive to the university two hours away. We had purchased a house and were getting acclimated to this border city on a border stateline.
Hindsight is 20-20.
I began my 18-month rotations with earnest, great ideas, and support. I had been offered a full-time position halfway through. It was in a department I admired with women who were all progressive. It was not the "cash cow" product line and therefore had the opportunity to be innovative and work with outside companies. I should have taken it, but, someone felt I should finish the rotations and get some time in the "core product line." My big mistake. My second big mistake was feeling like I had to accept the position I ended up in without waiting for the responses from the the other two (all internal, two were with subsidiaries in other cities). I should have take the subsidiary, especially since one was with a product line I had developed research reaching a new target audience and the other was one that interested me in innovation. Perhaps it was because we had already bought our house and my husband was half-way through his post-doc, I'm not sure, but I took the only opening.
The tiny little demon-in-mules was a terror.
My boss presented herself as all syrupy sweet, cooing over my infant daughter when my husband stopped by during lunch. She offered me two product lines and seemed to be helpful. Perhaps all of it was a guise to get past the three months that would have let me change my mind, she knew of the other offers and also knew that I was highly recruited to the company.
Then something shifted.
I had just returned from a product planning and research trip out west. I had completed an exhaustive competitive analysis and offered innovative ideas for the upcoming product line. I was finding out manufacturing processes on my own since my boss refused to do the teaching part of her job that all associate product managers were supposed to have. Nevertheless, I handled meetings, worked with the artists and writers, and was putting in time.
And she became a demon.
We were reorganized and had a new vice president of marketing and all the marketing and product managers were scurrying around hoping their product line would not be on the chopping block. She had a reputation for destroying careers, I found out later, and was secure in her spot due to her mom. She had reduced a male counterpart to actually begging to keep his job after she demoted him, berated him, and then reassigned him. I found this out later, also, when he came to my office to offer solace after a very terse interchange.
Mean girls engage in psychological warfare and tactics that can put even the most confident person off kilter. This was this type of person.
My final encounter with her was particularly bristling and unexpected. She literally came out of left field and unleashed a mouthful of expletives and condemnation and derogatory language on me that had me in stunned silence. I had worked in several entities in bigger cities and had never encountered anything like this. I had on my total shock face.
It was then that I learned that HR departments were not advocates for the employees but instruments for the corporation and that even the ombudsmen and diversity counsels were simply tools. No one would help because this woman was connected straight to the partners and had a position for life she was impenetrable.
My only recourse was to start looking for something else. Unfortunately for me at the time, I was pregnant and it was post 9-11 in a midwestern city that the only other major company had been laying off people left and right and left again.
I went to the marketing manager and told him what was going on and that since I was pregnant, I wasn't going to stay and risk losing my baby because of this woman's violent verbal assaults that were now coming almost daily. He wouldn't advocate for a transfer so I packed up my office one day when all the managers were at some retreat. It was over.
When I got into my van that last time in that corporate parking lot, I felt a sense of relief and burden lift from my shoulders. I had just lost a sizable income but felt in some ways I had gained back myself. I knew I couldn't continue to be in that department because her goal was not for me to leave the company, she was just a miserable woman who had a reputation of taking joy in cutting down junior associates. She had destroyed entire product lines in other departments and I never put the dots together that this was the same, infamous, "J...." who no one liked and everyone tolerated.
Fear seems to be the weapon and the condition of these women. This one turned her own inadequacies into weapons against other promising professionals who were sure to pass her up, she had already experienced it in two other departments before she ended up in the one where our paths crossed. Fear is also the weapon they use to intimidate others, especially since the economic great recession when many professionals have lost their careers and the new workplace is demanding 50-60 hour work weeks at 1/3rd the pay. They take pride and pleasure in how much pain they can inflict on others.
Good Morning America in 2011 did a report on bullying in the workplace that included women who confessed to being bullied and the damage it did to them.
CNN did a recent report on them and one of the male reviewers commented that men held some responsibilities because these women sometimes acted like this to gain attention from men or to break the glass ceiling. They think they have to cut down any other woman because surely there isn't room at the top for all of them. Their behavior is even worse if their staff is black or latina, they see them as a threat to be eliminated. The report went on to suggest that the majority of them are white, educated - though not highly, and from wealthier families, exactly the profile of the woman boss I endured, they have never been told their behavior was unacceptable and think their wealth or connections gives them a free pass to assassinate the character, esteem, and potential of others. They are manipulative and psychologically damaging, much like the high school character of a Lifetime Movie my daughter and I watched on Saturday. The ringleader preyed upon the weaknesses and/or fears of the others, often choosing a lesser person or characteristic to exploit, in my case, being the only MBA and only black and pregnant marketing professional in our department.
Just like bullying in high school is a problem that doesn't have an easy solution, so does bullying and mean women in the workplace. 27% of American workers report being bullied and at least one state has outlawed it. Maybe there is hope as more and more reports come out about the damage of bullying. CNN recently reported about a 20 year old who started an organization to combat mean girl behavior. From the report of school bus monitor, Karen Klein, who was bullied by a bunch of middle school boys, women are the brunt of that type of psychological and emotionally damaging bullying behavior more than men. It is also reported that 70% of women are bullied by other women, perhaps because women are relational.
As for me, I decided my sanity, self-esteem, and character was worth more than the salary of that position. I walked away. I am also teaching my 8 and 10 year old girls to advocate for themselves and to recognize bullying behavior. We talk about emotions and what some of their classmates do that can hurt the feelings of others. We also chat about when the sisters argue and when it steps over the line. I have hope that in these days of the Internet (we didn't have facebook or social media during my experience, I can only imagine it would be worse) and more awareness of the problem that more people will speak up and advocate for the victims of this type of emotional assault.
I've since had fulfilling opportunities to write, to teach, to lead a staff, to mentor, and to raise my children, and to me, it was worth packing up and walking away.
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