I’ve waited a long time to write this blog, because, well, because I’ve always known I was too angry to write it safely in the past. Now, I feel I’m ready because I’ve recently risen above what would have been some of my old-school knee-jerk responses to the bitches in question. The Bitches? But aren’t I a feminist? Sure I am. That’s exactly why I make a special case for certain girls: a special case for casting them out of my professional circle of trust, forever.
Very very easy – and all too common.
There’s a certain type of woman I’ve had the misfortune to work with a few times. They remind me of this world traveler type, a mutual friend of my Mom and my Dad’s, who stayed in our house once when we were away. We came back from holiday, exhausted after hitch hiking for two days, to find our home a complete mess. My mother took it up with her. I was in the room as they shouted at each other, each giving as good as they got. Both crazy women, screaming. Nasty stuff. Then… my dad walked in. This woman instantly turned on the waterworks, acting like my Mom had attacked her cruelly. Next thing? My dad was comforting the bitch – even though he was just as angry with her when we first arrived. My mother stood there, flabbergasted, staring.
I’ve had numerous colleagues like this. They generally sucked up to the male boss to get the job, then sucked up to him to keep it. They tended to ignore the women in meetings and flirt like mad with the guys. Call them on it? I tried a few times. They cried a few times. Guess who got burned? These are intelligent women. I got burned. I got burned, bad.
Lately I’ve had to deal with it at film school with one person, who only works cooperatively with male directors, and who flirts with the professors. She sat next to one professor all semester (a particularly insecure and egotistical little overgrown boy of a man) and actually played with his hair, during classes. I bet she got an A. She boasted to me about how she was a another professor’s “favorite” to me in an almost threatening manner after causing huge trouble for me on both occasions we worked together. Who knows what effect that had. Another person she worked with, who used to be friendly, doesn’t smile at me anymore. And you should hear what she told me about what he said about other people on his crew. It’s not like he should be trusting her!
I thought perhaps I was angrily imagining just what I wanted to see. Then She came into a class recently and told the professor “You are my favourite professor. You are the best ever.” You should have seen him smile. They still exchange little flirty comments in every class. She expresses her cute, helpless confusion every now and then, earning a loving chuckle from him. She’s pretty. She’s clever. She’s talented.
And she’s lazy.
Don’t get me wrong, the men who play this game are just as pathetic and just as much to blame – not less so because with no exceptions, they’re the source of the problem. These girls are all, in my experience, wealthy daughters of powerful fathers who were busy a lot of the time, earning money. Instead of being real fathers, they just gave their daughters whatever they asked for. You can tell these girls grew up with servants, with pocket money, and with the knowledge that they’d never want for cash. They are either designer hippies or brand whores. They waltz right in and buy the exact car they want, brand new. When you tell them they can’t have what they want right now, they give you a look that says “If you tried that where I’m from… my Daddy would kill you.” And he would. Every time the little darling cried, she got just what she wanted. And every time she cries, she still does.
Just an illustration, pinched from sparklife.com.
The less cute girls, or the girls with morals, or the girls who pay their own way? Well, we don’t have to rely on the sympathy of men to get our work done. Of course, our success doesn’t flatter these insecure men, because they didn’t give it to us. They are so insecure that they like the ass-lickers more. And so they ask us to befriend the backstabbing chicks. And they accuse us of “jealousy” if we don’t girl it up with them. Jealous? Seriously, I fail to see what we should be envying here. These girls are are pathetic. Their actions degrade our professional ethics. They’re playing the stereotype we are longing to escape. They turn our stomachs. They roll our eyes. They insult us to the core.
We shouldn’t have to put up with and hire the kind of insufferable little brown-nosers who make a joke of feminism, of hard work, and of pride. We shouldn’t have to respect the men whose egos perpetuate this bullshit. But sadly, we do have to. Because the men who buy their crap are still our bosses.
…and I’m done for now.