The reason for my latest visit to this all-male establishment was the need to get some excess locks snipped. And it was also an opportunity to unload some excess angst over my work woes.* I mentioned how the female-dominated workplace in the Department I worked in was getting me down. But, as I explained to my hairdresser, I didn�t just lay there and take it. I had put my foot down and told them I had had a gut full and was not going to take it anymore.
As he snipped and clipped he told me that he was pleased that I had stood up to the �bitches,� as he called them. I had �balls!� He thundered, slapping me on the back. It seemed an odd badge of courage to be awarded because I�d never really thought of myself as a gun slinging, macho type of guy when it comes to women. I�ve always been a strong believer in affirmative action and women�s rights. My voice has always been one of the strongest and loudest in the chorus when it came to supporting women and rooting out sexism in the workplace. But that was before I joined the Department.
My work woes started, as I began to explain to my hairdresser, when I accepted a job offer with a Department that was female-dominated. My understanding of male-centric organisations was one of an aggressive and dominating environment where there was no support and you had to constantly watch your back. But my university studies had assured me that women were positive, open, and supportive and that men were aggressive, confrontational and destructive.
An androgen-centric rather than testosterone-fuelled work environment sounded like the perfect workplace. With such reassuring academic notions spinning around in my head I signed off the paperwork, and picked up my smart, new, photo ID (with my happy face beaming out of the image), confidant that I would be working in the best workplace environment imaginable.
And at first it was. The staff were friendly and chatty. I felt comfortable enough with the mostly female staff that I even spoke freely about my male partner and it seemed that it wasn�t just me but everyone else that accepted my sexuality. Of course I expected that EEO would protect me anyway but it was nice to know that being gay wasn�t considered an obstacle, as it had been once years ago in the public service when people had to hide their identities.
My first week in this new female dominated environment went quite well and I even shared the task of getting the morning cappuccinos with the only other male in the section. But doubts began to enter my mind about this seemingly ideal feminine-controlled environment when I realised, one day, that the other female staff almost never went out to get the coffees. It appeared that it was considered the �boys� job. Another task I began to have misgivings about was the recycle bin. Again the other male in my area had previously put it out and now it was my turn. I couldn�t understand why women couldn�t do this task-especially if we were all equal in the workplace. However, I accepted these annoyances as a small price to pay for the equality of the sexes.
Now, whenever I start a new job, I always ensure that I make one friend who will act as my earpiece when I am not in the room. �Deep throat� did this for me very effectively. As an Executive Assistant she was able to tell me what was said behind my back. I learned that on one occasion when I went out to get a coffee for myself rather than everyone that another woman had complained �he went and got coffee for himself but not us.� I thought it was a bit rich coming from someone who spent much of her day moaning about her work and almost never went to get coffees for anyone else except when it was convenient for her.
The first nail in the coffin of my happy female dominated views came soon enough. Six months into my job I applied for a temporary position and was successful. �Deep throat� again informed me that there was a sense of resentment among some of the staff and disbelief that since I was a mere grade 4, I would jump two grades in my new temporary position. I ignored their unsupportive comments and, in readyness, I cleaned out my desk and prepared to go to my new office environment, prior to my boss �releasing� me. The key here would be the release part. It was like crossing a bridge in the sense that it depended on one single password: �release.� This is a term used in the public service where a supervisor has to give you permission to go to a new position. My new workmates had even booked a special lunch in preparation for my coming across �the bridge�.
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