I’ve been at my current job for a long time – 20 years and 6 months to be exact. Not because I loooove the job. Not because I'm so dedicated. Certainly not because I haven’t tried to get a position in my field…well, you get the drift. Before my current job, I worked in a large claims office of about 70 employees. I was young, and pretty much at bottom of the food chain in the office but on one level, and one level only, the playing field was even. And that was the break room, or as I like to think of it, the great equalizer. Yep, we were all equal in the breakroom, from the branch manager to the front desk clerk, male and female, young and old. The break room had a kitchen with a refrigerator, sink, cupboards and microwave. There were tables and chairs. You could use the refrigerator to store your food and beverages during the week, but everything that was not removed by Friday afternoon, was thrown away at the end of the day no matter whom it belonged to. If you made a mess preparing your food, you cleaned it up. You wiped the table when you were done at lunch or break time. There were always enough people around to hold you accountable. But the chief and most fundamental rule of the break room revolved around the coffee pot. It was simple. Whoever took the last cup of coffee from either the regular or decaf pot, made the next pot, thus ensuring there was always coffee available. It did not matter who you were. Those were the rules. Many are the time I saw the branch manager of the whole office making a pot of coffee. It was something you could count on like death and taxes.
So, when I came to my new job at the small insurance agency, I wasn’t fooled. I knew it was still a man’s world and I knew I was still a peon. I expected the man would be honing his macho by bossing me around ensuring his superiority over my female weakness. But nothing prepared me for my first introduction to my new job. My boss, while showing me around the office, walked me over to the coffee pot and said, verbatim: This is the coffee pot and it's your job to keep it full. I laughed - surely he was joking. With a big grin I said, ‘you’re kidding right/” He looked me straight in the eye and confirmed that he was not. The earth moved, but not in a good way. I was reeling and had trouble focusing the rest of the day. It was my first inkling of my new and even lower status.
Keep in mind, I, like most women, especially 20 years ago, had no illusions about what I was up against in this "man's world." At the time, I was a single mother with an ex who did not pay child support - ever. I had a high-school education and about 30 college credits so I knew the score. Yet still, the coffee pot directive came as a shock. Hadn't we advanced in this 20th century? Was not our generation of women the vanguard of feminism, the movement for equal rights, equal pay and dignity for women. Did not our female forbears in this very century garner for us the right to vote? I was apalled - and what's worse...I was stuck. I had already left my other job and didn't have much experience as it was. I was stuck with this dictator who viewed me as the "dumb broad" at the office. Remember the movie, "9 to 5," with Dolly Parton? That song became my theme song in my head for many years, through the $7 per hour pay checks, 10 cent raises, verbal snubs, and endless pots of coffee.
Fast forward 20 years: My kids are grown and gone. I am remarried and have earned a bachelor's and a master's degree. I'm still working at the same job. I won't go into my arduous and continual attempts to procure other employment - that's for another day. I'm not sure what happend. Perhaps I'm being punished by the God that I question so rabidly. Maybe I'm learning a lesson that I didn't quite get in a past life. Maybe my resume sucks...the point is - it's not for lack of trying. But I have learned a few things along the way and I believe my boss, the coffee tyrant, has as well.
My title is "office manager." Pretty much, I do the same things as everyone else with a few small added responsibilities. In years past, one of the other workers who started earlier than me and was lower on the office food chain, always made the coffee. When she left, I noticed my boss actually making coffee now and then. By that time, he wouldn't dream of asking me to do it for fear of my feminist wrath. But one morning, in a fit of magnanimous benevolence, I offered to make the coffee. That was about 4 years ago. I have been making it ever since. If for some reason I don't make it, the coffee tyrant tells one of the other ladies to do it. Don't get me wrong about the coffee tyrant. He is a good man. He's a hard worker and has a kind heart. But in his own words, he is a male chauvinist.
I am as close as it is possible to get to the top of the food chain in this now, 4 peson office and have been for years. I can't go any further - I've hit the ceiling as it were...glass, um plastic - I don't know. I didn't have to claw my way to the "top" either - I've just been here the longest. I've had to fight for every vacation day, most pay raises and priviledges that we have obtained. I have made myself a major thorn in the coffee tyrants side many times for the betterment of myself and the others and for that, I have no regret.
I've come to grips with the coffee debacle. Don't misunderstand - I know making coffee was never really the issue. It was just symbolic of all of the attitudes and perceptions that make up the gender gap and strain relations between all involved. I recently read the statement, "Because we live in a world of dualities, we often need to understand the shadow before we can appreciate the light," (Daily Om). While I still cringe at the menial tasks I perform such as washing the dishes in the office kitchen every third week and plunging the sink while sporting my currently worthless master's degree, I am able to overlook the coffee war. Saying I'm disheartened over my inability to get a position in my field is a broad understatement. I tear up every time I write out my monthly payment to Uncle Sam for the school loans. But I continue to search for the place I want to be. In the meantime, me and the coffee tyrant have come to a mutual respect and understanding now. Plus, we've grown up a bit.
For my part, I've realized the gender gap will not be bridged over a pot of coffee. I make coffee now as a gesture of kindness and willingness to serve my fellow man/coffee tyrant. I remain militant in the face of injustice but I choose my battles so much more carefully. And as for the coffee tyrant, I have seen cracks in the armor of his bravado. He is a bit more compassionate and respectful to women these days. I can't take all the credit for that - he is the father of two strong young women, but I like to believe I had something to do with his enlightenment. It helps to think so.
