Blog of the Week: Jane Takes a Memo

The idea that this blatant a display of sexism and downright condescension is alive and well is pretty shocking. Maybe that's why, when in the moment, we miss our at-bat—we swing too late, too hard without connecting. If Jane's experience serves a purpose, it's to remind us to be ready. To simply use the opportunity to reverse age-old bias, rather than revert to good old-fashioned kicking and screaming—which, while therapeutic, serves no one else but you.

I belong to a business club downtown. It’s a great place for meetings, one-on-one discussions, and the occasional introspective time (fueled by their extraordinary chocolate chip cookies).

There were two of us in the member’s library that rainy afternoon—a white-haired gentleman and me. The gentleman had been on phone call after phone call, and I was in my “happy place”—a reflective frame of mind where I’m blissfully alone and totally immune to what’s going on around me.

Suddenly, I was aware of a shouting voice… one that’s directed at me.

“Young lady, young lady, I need you over here right now.”

It was the voice of the white-haired gentleman. He was vigorously motioning for me to come his way as he continued his phone call.

I quickly crossed the room, thinking something was wrong, given his urgent tone of voice. As I got closer, he pushed a piece of paper across the table, and I heard him say, “Okay, Frank, go ahead. I found a woman here to be my secretary. What’s the guy’s name and phone number?”

Say what?!

A silent war between my Midwest-upbringing-ingrained sense of courtesy and my spirit of gender equality was thundering in my head. Courtesy won. Seething, I wrote down the name and phone number. The white-haired gentleman took the slip of paper, never acknowledging me. I had been dismissed.

Chocolate chip cookies are good for reflection but not so good for soothing raging injustice. How dare he treat me like some 1950s secretary straight out of Mad Men? How idiotic was I for complying?

I packed up my PC and headed for home, still fuming at both the white-haired gentleman and myself.

The next day, a friend shared a story of how a friend of hers had been the victim of a racial slur. I asked her if her friend had engaged the individual in a discussion about how disturbing the comment was.

No, came the answer, it was easier to just walk away.

Just walk away… exactly what I had done with the white-haired gentleman.

Out of the blue it hit me: two lost opportunities for teachable moments.

Perhaps that gentleman and the racial slur woman are blinded by unconscious bias…

Perhaps they are unaware of how they were perpetuating stereotypes…

Perhaps they are totally aware of their prejudices and don’t care…

Perhaps the insulted woman and I had climbed the ladder of inference, fueled by our own hot buttons and views of the world and misinterpreted what we thought had happened…

In the absence of taking the initiative to have a discussion where clarifying questions could be asked, neither one of us knew for sure what factors were in play.

Guess what I’m doing the next time I see the white-haired gentleman.