I Am Woman, See Me Work

I’m not working for the Man anymore. Well, not literally, anyway. I started a brand new job today in the City. It’s a small company, founded and owned by a woman. A youngish-woman, at that. The receptionist-slash-office administrator lead me and another newbie on the obligatory office tour, stopping at each cube. I met many people, whose names, I’m sorry to say, were completely forgettable. With the exception of “Jennifer”. There seems to be an inordinate amount of Jennifers at my new job.

Among the many introductions, the receptionist introduced me to Sarah, a pleasant woman in her early 40s. She wasn’t trendily dressed like most of the young women in the office, but nonetheless very stylish, with a black and grey crepe skirt, pieced together in loose strips. I gave her the same smile and handshake I gave to the fifty or so people I had met this morning. I wanted to kick myself when the receptionist said later, ”Oh, and Sarah’s the president of the company.” If I would have known that, I would have turned the internal wattage up and given her my extra-special smile and handshake. Sheesh.

I have returned to my industry of choice—the events business. I have been planning, coordinating and handling the operation of trade shows, conferences, meetings and special events since 1993. The ripple effect of 9/11 had done me in and consequently I was in and out of the events biz, well, right up until today. I haven’t felt this optimistic about work in a very long time and dagummit, I finally feel like I have something I can dig my heels into.

The building I work at looks like a holdover from the dotcom bust of the early ‘90s. Exposed brick walls and vents, extra high ceilings, black bean bags and space. Lots and lots of space. I imagined, in its hey-day, its halls were filled with artsy-trendy looking young people with tattoos, black plastic bracelets and unnaturally red hair, coasting down the aisles on those little scooters.

The events business, in general, is run by women; the executives, however, almost always are male. Not so at this company, the owner and most of the VPs are female. In fact, of about seventy or so employees, I only met around five men. And while some may see working with mostly women something akin to sorority life or being backstage at a beauty pageant, right now, this minute, I choose to see it as a positive. I will do my darndest not to have any “meetings in the ladies room”—unless provoked, that is.

Downtown Walnut Creek, a suburb of the City, was not the hippest, most happening place to work. Walking around downtown San Francisco, walking down my aisle to get to my cube, I was struck by the sheer number of beautiful people wandering around. I thought, Who are these people? And what are they doing without their entourages? I almost got stabbed several times by the pointy-shoes of A-line-floral-skirt-wearing-women in the office. I’m a healthy, straight, Filipino-American woman but I felt like the butchiest of bulldykes among the women in my office. I thought the embroidered flowers on my black shirt would be enough of a feminine touch, but I was way off base. I can’t compete with faux-fur trimmed jackets and open-toed pumps. Oh well...

It was only my first day…