A Woman of the Nineties
Sun., February 17, 01:08 PM
As you can tell, I wrote this some time ago, and I wondered how much it should be updated. I think the underlying philosophy remains the same. Women are masters of multi-tasking.
Of course, some young women don’t get it. The last one I showed it to thought it was a male chauvinist put-down.
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“I’m a woman of the nineties,” a young co-worker told me, “I don’t make coffee.” Well, I’m a woman of the nineties too, and I know who I am. Making coffee doesn’t diminish me.
I have worked with men who stood around helplessly because the coffeepot was empty, though there have been others who washed cups and cleared up in the kitchen. I always liked that poster that says, “your mother doesn’t work here, so please clean up after yourself.”
Certainly, I’m not going to accept a position as a secretary and spend my days cleaning house. (We paid our professional cleaners a lot more than our typists.) But it’s really necessary to assess the situation. Support staff can be one or two people or a dozen. Best job I ever had was working for six presidents and an educator; when I joined the company, there were more chiefs than Indians. Six years later, the home office alone had about thirty people, with “specialists” to do the mailing, the copying, the catering and the accounts, to answer the phones and greet visitors. Sure, the work was easier, the hours were shorter, but it wasn’t nearly as much fun.
Thirty-five years ago it was far more common to ask a secretary to do odd jobs, but female bosses were less apologetic about it. One woman expected me to mail out her personal checks (which involved researching addresses for her butcher and dressmaker) as well as to do emergency mending. I left that job when I got married; my new husband was an easier taskmaster.
More recently, I worked for a woman who expected me not only to make the coffee, but to shop for it, as well as for all the things that went with it (“remember, Oreos are the official office cookie”). What’s more, I was supposed to do it on my own time, in my personal car. I didn’t stay there long either, but my next job required a lot of the same labor, which I did cheerfully. Why? Because it was a different situation, because no one ever ordered me to do it, because I considered myself a part of the business and their goal was my goal, because they loved me. (We become real pushovers for a little appreciation.) Washing china cups and saucers by hand was part of the ambience; we were too classy to serve guests Styrofoam cups.
The current term is “team player,” which basically means taking responsibility for whatever needs to be done. One supervisor told me, “it’s not your job to make coffee” (back to the coffee again); I pointed out that it was the obligation of whoever emptied the pot – and I had poured that last cup for her! When there is no cleaning staff, you empty wastebaskets. If the receptionist is busy, you pick up the phone. Technology makes life easier for everyone, and anyone can learn to use a photocopier or word processor.
From the beginning I taught my kids to take that kind of responsibility, and as I’ve gotten older I tended to treat co-workers the same way. I imagine it’s a little annoying for those young people who thought they were getting away from their mothers, but in the long run it’s been effective for me. Mostly, it’s a way to achieve cooperation, as “would you replace that water bottle for me?” Water bottles weigh forty pounds, and young men – and sometimes young women – are happy to demonstrate their muscles for the old lady. Sometimes it’s a form of authority, of restating the rules: “no, you may not have the conference room now; Bobby was here first.”
Of course, as I said, situations differ. Basic rules are: (1) everyone may have to take responsibility when necessary, and (2) you respect one another. But I can remember one situation where all of that went right out the window.
We were working for one of the most brilliant people I have ever met. He was demanding, occasionally irascible, and often “helpless.” That is, he acted helpless because he wanted someone else to do whatever it was. We ran his errands and made his coffee; we got him out of bed in time for meetings. I even spent half an hour chatting with him over the phone while he waited for a plane, because he was lonesome. We did it, no questions asked. Why? Everyone – employees and clients alike – made exceptions for him because he was so smart, and his brain was really the source of our income. But he was also charming, generous, and appreciative of our efforts. Would I work for him again? Probably not, but I am profoundly grateful for the experience.
I was reminded of all this recently when I saw a female attorney clearing out old files and hauling them down to storage. She has three male colleagues, but it seems that cleaning is still “women’s work.” A woman of the millennium.
