Would you like to be my boss?

C'mon, all the cool kids are doing it! Line up quietly and take a number. I am sure it's into double digits now, but everybody gets a turn giving me orders.

The departure of the woman who hired me created a vacuum in the department, and apparently I am cast as the lint stuck to the rollers of the Dirt Devil of Girl Power Games. It's not that I don't know who I work for - I do. My direct boss is the president of the company. After him comes the chief operating officer. Then the director of land development, the VP of Sales, the CFO if he needs me. And of course, if the owner of the company shoots me an email he bumps everybody else's project. I'm fine with this. It's not any more or less than I am capable of handling, and I enjoy it.

But there are two girls in the department - we'll call 'em Cupcake and Twinkie (I'm not calling them "girls" in a perjorative sense, but they are girls compared to me) - who have decided that there needs to be a female in charge, and for some reason that totally blows my mind, they have taken to Giving Me Orders. Which I cheerfully ignore, of course, because 1) they're Cupcake and Twinkie; and 2) I'm busy doing substantive work with the people above their heads. Let's think about this - the president, VPs, directors, et al. treat me with respect, ask if I'm free to be in a meeting, etc., you know, common courtesy you do when you are on a team. Cupcake and Twinkie send me orders me like I'm on Their Staff. Mostly for stuff that 1) is not important; or 2) they don't fully understand. They don't have a staff, but apparently they really do want one. The past two days were the kicker.

A problem popped up that could have stopped houses from closing (we build houses, in case you just tuned in). It could have stopped closings in an entire community at the end of a quarter. This is very, very bad. Crisis bad. Black humor about suicide bad. So I got into it and figured out what was wrong and made a few calls, including the phone call to the person who could fix it, and lo, it was fixed. It was a good day, it was one of those times when I really feel my experience and skills are in the right place at the right time and I have real value to lend to this organization. Because nobody else could have cut through to the answer as fast as I did, and I fixed it. And I felt good.

A day later, after the problem is solved, Twinkie forwards me the email that initiated this event, and says, "Catherine, please look into this!" Uh, honey, I fixed it yesterday, but thank you for telling me to do it in front of a dozen people. And by the time you "directed" me to handle it, it was too late to save the closings for the quarter, but you don't really understand that, do you? I emailed back, tersely - "Taken care of." I left off the "And you wouldn't understand what I did to fix it if I explained very slowly and drew pictures, so kiss my ass." But I thought it.

I should just laugh - it was a pointless chance for her to exercise her imaginary power, it meant nothing, the people who do matter (the ones with the real titles) know what I did and they're happy. It was a chance to show them I really do know my stuff. My stock rose. It was a good day.

It was just the latest in the drip, drip, drip itty-bitty aggravation of posturing and bossing coming from Twinkie and the Cupcake. They can't actually tell me, or anybody else, what to do because they don't know enough about development, but they can tell other people that they are telling me what to do. It's amazing, really, the games people play in corporate America. This is a prime example of why "being a team player" does not pay - I'm always gracious to them when I need something from them, I explain the project and how it all works together, and I never say, "Do this!" I say, "We need to do this." I always maintain the position that we are all on the same team. Clearly, I am a dumbshit.

But this was one email too far, and it pissed off one of the big boys, who was cc'd on the email "ordering" me to take care of something she knew nothing about and wasn't in her job description. This issue is going to come to a head in the next couple of weeks, and I am going to sit back and let the boys handle it, because I do NOT want to be seen as a player in a chick fight. I just work here. And I really do like my job. I can put up with Twinkie and Cupcake, I know I don't actually answer to them and if they really bugged me I'd be the one taking it to my actual boss. I actually like these girls, they are bright and capable, but they're young and they don't really know what they don't know yet. It's the fact that this doesn't stop them from trying to assume command that bugs me. I assume that this will settle down in time, I don't care enough to make it an issue with anybody, it's just funny. I really hope it doesn't become an issue, because then it will be "Catherine complained!" on the chick backline, and Catherine didn't. Rolled her eyes and is on her second glass of wine this evening, but I didn't complain. The issue was brought to ME, I didn't bring it up to anyone. All I did was try to be cooperative and helpful to everybody, and apparently that marked me as the weak female in the pack. They are so fucking wrong. I don't want to have to get into this, it's so stupid, but...damn.

I've worked for big corporations and small and it's seems like it's often the same issue - chicks vying for a perception of control. And if you don't get into the mud wrassling with them you get to be the pawn. I'm too old, tired and good at my job to be a pawn. I Don't Care about your title. I don't care what you think you do. I don't care if you have to see yourself as a manager, just don't manage ME, because I'm busy and it's annoying. I like what I do, and I want to do it without this bullshit. Because other than this silliness, I really do love my job. I am finding my niche - it has taken over half a year and my boss's departure, but it's getting to be fun and interesting and the days fly.

So here's to a week of good things and petty annoyances, and let's hope the good things aren't overshadowed by* the petty annoyances. I must reel in my champion among the big boys - he is too manly for his own good and doesn't understand backlash.

And on the amazing but WTF good news - my father does NOT have lung cancer. Get this: he has tests and is referred to a lung specialist who examines his CT scans and x-rays and says he's 99% - yes, that's 99% - sure it's lung cancer. And sends him for a PET scan. And then says after days of worry and fear, "My bad, it's pneumonia." I'm glad it's "just" pneumonia - though when you're as elderly and frail as my father, that's hardly a blessing - but, DAMN! What kind of doctor is this? After my many sessions reading scans with oncologists for two years, I am fairly confident I could distinguish cancer from pneumonia, or at least see enough to ask for more details. Damn.

I'm gonna go knit. Pictures and happy dogs all weekend.

*Edited. Hello, wine!