As I was slowly trying to adjust myself to this 'Glen or Glenda' sight, Jane, to my shock, even told me that she hadn�t had �the chop�. It was quite an introduction to a new boss but I felt sure that once I got past the 'Glen or Glenda' surprise of Jane�s appearance, we would work together better because we both knew all about discrimination in the workplace. And what more perfectly queer work environment could you get than having a gay man and a trans-sexual working together? And what more perfectly happy and supportive environment could you hope for? And how more deluded could I have been to think that just because a man looks like a woman (or attempts to) that you will be treated any better.
My first week of this new, queer office was a real eye-opener. It was not what I expected. Instead of a busy work environment with a focus on administrative duties, this work environment was very relaxed, even 'loose'. Jane liked to talk a lot about herself and she would regale myself and the other fellow worker, Jeff with stories of her past as a man. She was very entertaining, if not very self-opinionated, but I did have to wonder whether we shouldn't concentrate more on work and less on personal revelations. She also enjoyed long telephone conversations with her relatives. In one in particular she berated her son for not knowing how to change a car's fan belt. �Do I have to come and do it for you?� I could easily imagine that working on a car would be no trouble for Jane because she had the 'man hands' to do it.
I accepted this unconventional work environment as a pleasant change from the rat trap. But did think it a bit odd that she seemed to be doing a lot of tranny counselling during work hours. And I could overhear her booming voice. She would arrange to meet 'potential' trannies in cafes and say: �I�m six foot and I'll be wearing a blond wig.� I felt sure that the 'potential' trannies who wanted to have "the chop" might have run away screaming after a close encounter with 'Glen or Glenda' especially if that was what they thought they would turn into.
Jane's trannie outreach extended beyond taking a few calls from Glen's wanting to become Glendas, though. Jane would look up trannie web sites, send trannie emails and receive trannie faxes, leaving her 'straight' work in the in tray until she had finsihed the more 'important' trannie stuff. But I didn�t mind. I was most amused by her other staff member, Jeff - a straight, married male. Nothing that came out of Jane�s mouth seemed to surprise him. But that was because, as I later learned, they were friends prior to working together, when Jane was John. But I never did find out how far the friendship extended to. Not that I really wanted to know.
The honeymoon period in this new and free queer environment didn�t last long. For all of Jane�s theatricality she seemed hopeless as a boss. She gave me no direction and just dumped work on my desk without comment. A week and a half into the job I had to talk to her about this. Her response was immediately hostile. She looked at me sharply, then replied: �I�m not going to hold your hand.� While I didn�t want a date with Jane I certainly did want what any employee wants from a supervisor-supervision! I went to Eunice, explained the situation and went back to work. But the tension was now palpable. And I was given the silent treatment by both Jane and Jeff.
I wasn�t the only one that had �crossed� Jane. Marjorome, who sat near my desk, had once worked with Jane. And the experience had not been a nice one, as she confided in me. Jane had treated Marjorome in what could only be described as an appalling way. As Marjorome related, she had once returned to work after a hospital visit only to be told by Jane that: �You�re having hormone problems. Stop complaining-and get on with your work.� It seemed a rather odd thing for a trannie to say to a real woman. Marjorome also said that management would not support me in a case against Jane because they feared that Jane would cry trannie discrimination. I realised that once again the �female� (I use the term advisedly) odds were stacked against me, but this particular �female� had both female and male senior staff by the metaphorical �balls.�
This was the final nail in the coffin for me. I�d had enough of nasty, conniving, vain, frumpy, middle-aged, self-loathing bitches - whether they where women or Glen or Glenda look-a-likes. I went straight into Eunice�s office and told her that I would never work for Jane again. I demanded to be transferred back to my old job. And they did. I returned happily to the rat trap, and vowed never to trust a sheep in wolf�s clothing, or a man in woman�s clothing, again. At least my old job didn�t come with any trannie-trouble.
I�d reached the end of my story and the end of my haircut. My hairdresser brushed me off and gave me a masculine handshake and a parting, and startling, compliment. As I walked out of this all-male club, passing by the blokes with their beers and cigarettes who were chatting with an air of camaraderie, pulling away at the poker machines and watching the soccer, I reflected that my hairdresser had given the ultimate compliment to another man who isn't a card carrying member of that other club called heterosexuality. It�s not every day that a straight man actually says to a gay man that he�s not a soft cock!
*June 2001 to August 2002
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