One of the things that has kept me away from blogging is the fear of getting discovered and thusly fired because of what I post here. I realize bigger better bloggers have blazed that trail and are not subsisting on cat food nor are they turning tricks to survive. And thanks to quick response to my random email from Kristy, I’m gonna give it a go.
I mean, I have advanced degrees. I’m cute. And nice. And black. And some place is going to have some affirmative action quota they need to fill, so there’s that.
Over the last 7 years, I’ve had a pretty bumpy career. I think it’s because my first 3 professional years were so amazing that my expectations for the World of Work were set pretty high. My first 3 years I worked in an environment of unbridled support and mutual respect. We picked up the ball for each other without worrying that we’d be working unpaid overtime. We did happy hours, celebrated birthdays, went to each other’s weddings, laughed, grunted through work so it never felt like work. I was inspired. I was happy. I was doing exactly what I my high-priced education prepared me to be doing. And then shit changed. People got promoted. They got egos. Divisions were made between us and them. It was like being friends with a divorcing couple. And I stuck it out for 2 more years until I saw the underside of a bus. Since then I’ve followed jobs where it starts out all sunshine and promise and that THIS time will be different. Until it’s not.
So I changed industries. Followed the money with a big company. The one where I felt a little tingle in my bottom every time I saw the logo on TV. Where work/life balance is not only non-existent, but people take pride in the amount of time they spend away from their real lives. Where sending an email at 3am is a badge of honor and walking around the office with an IV of coffee and speed are strongly encouraged. While I’ve never been one to chase awards (I’d rather see your appreciation on my pay stub), it was starting to come. At first my recognitions were well-received by my colleagues. Then I got a promotion and that shit changed real quick.
In an office of 70+, there are 7 men. And, besides me, 4 black women. While I pride myself on being able to get along with just about anyone (some of my best friends are white!…actually ALL of them are), I seem to be running into some issues lately. The newest being one that is “older” and has questioned my qualifications since the day I arrived.
The frustrating thing is she has a very Holly Hobby, kindergarten teacher manner. Her voice is soft and sing-songy and I let her get away with starting sentences with “Girl” because punching her in the face would be rude. I’m essentially her assistant on a project with very picky clients. Most of the other people I’ve assisted have scheduled a meeting with me to say “This is what I need from you, this is what I expect, how I want information to come from you, and when I need it.” Done and done. I can work with ANYONE if you’re clear with me. Now if you expect me to meander through the cobwebs of your mind, we’re gonna have problems.
Which is what we have now. Problems.
I take notes on all of our calls with the clients email them to her. Since I am pretty detailed in this process, most people I assist either send them directly to the client or give me a heads up on what they’ve changed before sending it. Not her. She changed a bunch of crap, assigned it to me, and didn’t alert me to it until the day before our next client meeting. And then got pissed at me for not having it ready. While I was out of town.
It’s MY process that I know more than my assistants, so I can delegate tasks appropriately. On our last client call she asked me some key questions, I felt, she should have known and then threw me under the bus. When I scheduled a “Hey, let’s talk about your style/process” call with her, she asked me if I wanted to go through each point in my job description to make sure I understood it.
(sigh).
I’m adding “mind reader” to the “Other Duties As Assigned” and moving the fuck on.
All Balls Itch 
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