Hey, bitches. Allow me to introduce you to my second guest poster, Jill, and her biting sense of humor. Enjoy...
There have been times in the jobs I've had when I've fucked up. It doesn't matter how it happened, really. There's the Inverted Number Sequence Catastrophe of aught three, the Wrong Address Paper Mix-Up of ninety-nine... I'm sure you've all had your own. Oh, the stories I could tell! But there's definitely a special chapter in that particular book of fables for the collective fallout of these mistakes.
This may shock you, but as a woman, it is a big deal when I mess up at work. When a man makes a small computing error he is “only human”, for a woman mistakes are a symptom of feminine silliness. It's frankly a wonder we can get through a full day without blowing something up, right ladies? For men it's a one-time thing, for women just another in a string of airhead moves.
I can't count the number of times a male supervisor has tried to make me feel stupid over something that's as natural to humans as breathing: fucking up. I have news for you, superiority-complexed male supervisors: one wrong digit does not an idiot make. I've sat there patiently, having the simplest tasks explained to me over and over again. I've put up with your condescending tone. I've refrained from screaming “I AM WAY SMARTER THAN YOU, ASSHOLE!” But no more.
Right now, I am outing you publicly. All you smarmy middle managers with your dull-witted cries of “you must be pregnant!” when I feel sick. All you limp-wristed, fleece-vest-wearing jokers who make lame comments about PMS when I am legitimately pissed at your incompetence.
I am smarter than you. That's right, I said it.
No longer will I leave the house feeling crisp and in control, only to return eight hours later feeling bedraggled. I have your number, middle manager man.
I demand you take me seriously from now on. I will not laugh at your PMS jokes. I will look at you like you have six heads when you suggest I am pregnant.
Most of all, when you explain something simple to me for the three-hundredth time, because you just can't get over that one time I got it wrong, I will say: “Thank you, but I figured that out already. If you'll excuse me, I have work to do.”
I can't stop making mistakes. I have faith that I will find new and challenging ways to fuck up in the future. But you know what? So will men!
YUPB readers, don't be trapped by the middle manager man. He's an idiot. You just keep on walkin' in your fab, fab shoes.
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2 comments:
Sadly, I've found that female managers can be even worse in this respect. At my last job (which I am anxious to leave no trail back to, hence why I am anonymous right now), my female boss had completely unrealistic expectations, even after the two of us had what I thought was a very honest discussion about how we both expected the job to be performed.
Long story short, she basically expected me to do something impossible and then was furious when I didn't manage to accomplish it.
At the moment, I'm feeling incredibly frustrated because it just seems like if you're not a manager or a senior-level professional, no one gives you a chance.
I am a middle manager.
Middle aged.
Middle figured.
Middle minded I am not.
If one works within a hierarchical system where middle is the heady elevation between those who think they can do a better job and those who are sure that the middle manager could do a better job, then one is doomed.
I work in healthcare; now an institution, but once a vocational life style. Like many organizations where vocation has made way for profession we have become a structure built upon the fragile egos of the academic, overly mothered person who has choosen this life path as the money is good and the status is ridiculosly inflated.
When all jobs now require a degree and other credentially creeping framed papers one can assume that sometimes, those coming along 'behind' have a self inflated perception of their own value and own importance. Employees that sit on the hood of the engine of organizational omnipitence are often found to be critical of the role of the middle manager. In my lengthy experience this is usually a result of education without experience and education based on four years of developing a degree that cost a fortune and has left the Bachelor or maybe the Master with the misguided view that they have what the economy needs.
I run a tight ship; why? because I am spending your money to provide your communities with a service. I applaud your education, I am delighted you spent time in Thailand contemplating your navel and I will always treat you with respect and dignity. I want to discover your potential and embrace your ideas and listen to your concerns ( I'll even do this over wine). I'll help you progress your career or leave this one and find another and I understand that you have a life outside of work that needs to be nurtured too..so you can be a good citizen too I believe. BUT...seriously, walk in my shoes, turn up every day on time, if the work is too hard tell me and we'll find a way to get it done, dress appropriately, keep off the internet at your desk ( or equivalent) take courses, put your personal cell phone on mute when you are at work, stop believing that you are the best until you have proved it, understand that you are not entitled to special treatment ( just human, law abiding treatmentand) take a minute to appreciate that work is horizontal not hierarchical and talk to me openly and honestly without the 'handling' that is so popular now.
I am a dedicated middle manager, finding creative ways to deliver a difficult service and I have learned that most employees are good people with the usual professional and personal life challenges as are the senior people. We're in the middle and sometimes it feels as if we are as low as as a snake's belly in a cart rut.
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