There comes a time in everyone’s life where they have to make a decision based upon a speedy assessment of two or more possible outcomes to a given situation. Yesterday it was my turn.
I chose not to extend my fist rapidly towards the face of my boss with the sole intention of acquainting my knuckles with the innermost portion of her frontal lobe, via the right eye socket or perhaps the nasal passages.
This was a decision based not only on whether it would hurt my hand or not, the answer to which was a sure fire “yes”, but also on the ensuing consequences that would affect not only mine but my wife’s state of rationale too. Which would be selfish, unfair and would cost me dear.
Those of you who know me, and those of you who may’ve read various things I’ve penned in the past (not pigs) will understand that I often seem faster than most when it comes to finding fault in aspects of my superiors – particularly when they’re women. This isn’t something I chose to ignore either; I feel I should try to work out why these feeling persist to a point where any relationship I may want to establish at work with a senior colleague is blighted if they’re female. I can’t for the life of me think of anything that may’ve drawn my attention to the fact that all female senior managers (FSMs) are nonses, other than perhaps where I’ve chosen my career path – aha! Yes that must be it! At last – realisation…could it be??
I’ve worked in the public sector for a while now – perhaps too long, in fact. I have a vague memory of….oh no….no that’s not the case – hang on! No there’s no way I can believe what I was about to say…I was about to waffle on about how women in senior roles within the private sector seem to have a much more masterful cut on things, compared to those at a similar level in the public sector, but I just realised that’s all bollocks; those women are just better at bitching. They earn more money than their public sector counterparts so there’s even more need to try to out-dress all colleague, or rather all “threats from out of the blue who really don’t stand a chance, especially with that hair which is soooo last season and those tits; my God sometimes I really don’t know if androgyny is a dietary failing or just used as a fashion statement for the one time (Wyclef) victims of school bullies” as is how the word “colleague” translates in the mind of the FSM.
Anyway – before I forget the reason for writing this I should aim to get to the point. Or at least open a door and lean in just enough so you can see the point, but not necessarily grasp it.
Yesterday my FSM and I disagreed on a particular point whilst discussing the best solutions to a problem. We agreed that the third party involved had a right to make suggestions that we should consider, but my point was that we shouldn’t necessarily feel obliged to go with whatever the third party thought best. In this case we had the upper hand in expertise relating to the problem we were discussing and I couldn’t understand why that hadn’t been dragged out to support the notion of us not following the suggestion made by our less informed partners. I saw it as more of an opportunity to thank our partners for their contributions, but to illustrate that although they had the right idea, the consequences of following their ‘idea’ would bury us up to our necks in much more of the same shit we're in already.
But no – my FSM couldn’t handle that. She suggested I was missing the point of ‘partnership’ working, as if she was stating that in order for a partnership to work you don’t necessarily discuss ideas, you simply pick up something that a partner says and run around with it for a bit, waving it about like a mental, before sitting down and telling everyone else in the partnership what a great new idea this suggestion is.
Well that was it. I propounded such madness was like nothing I’d previously heard. And then came forth the greatest, and oldest, bluff-whammy ever. She protested that I had offended her. Right there and then. By using a description of one of the key elements of this particular branch of the ‘partnership’ in one particular way, a way often used by members of the same particular partnership themselves…I said, beware now, I said h-o-m-o-s-e-x-u-a-l.
Yes homosexual. That’s the word, there it is and here it is again – HOMOSEXUAL – in caps.
Now, I know for a fact that me saying homsexual wasn’t offensive to the FSM or she would have certainly made it clear to the rest of the team that out of a matter of respect to her, nobody used the 'h' word. No, instead she just decided, rather clumsily, that the only way to get out of the discussion she had brought on herself, and taken away from the rest of the team and tucked away into her own little office, herself, was to suddenly pull out the ‘offence card’ at a moment when my argument was really gaining momentum.
This was insane. I didn’t know what to do. When a FSM pulls the offence card out you know, unless you’re another FSM, in which case the message is simply that it’s gloves off and hair pulling time and that girly grunting sound effects making can begin. However if you’re a member of the club for boys, the man machine, the brotherhood, well you’d be better off sticking her biro in your eye and rushing into the nearest room full of colleagues, screaming and waving your arms in the air as you profess to claims of assault and wounding!
I chose not to extend my fist rapidly towards her face with the sole intention of acquainting my knuckles with the innermost portion of her frontal lobe, via the right eye socket or perhaps the nasal passages.
I announced that I couldn’t continue the discussion. I left the room. I’ve been sulking ever since.
I'm growing tired of this game...I need a change.
