You Can't Call "Skirts" Broads Anymore
When I returned to the workforce, after spending the better part of twenty-five years caring for a home and family, I was filled with trepidation. I feared that my office skills, so finely honed before retirement, would be lacking in a corporate world that had continued to move forward while I changed diapers and burped babies. My fears were quickly put to rest as I experienced first hand the old adage, "The more things change...," well, in the office, nothing really changes.
In 1968, after two years at the premiere training institute for young women about to enter the business world, I stepped, white gloves in hand, into a job in the public relations department at Lever Brothers. Built on stilts on prestigious Park Avenue, the corporate headquarters was award winning in more ways than architecture. Before the meanings of loyalty and dedication were lost to the bottom line, corporations were an extension of family. The person in the next office was not just a voice heard through the wall. We all KNEW each other, and we all had a common goal...the success of "The Company." Although, I am sure, there were people ready and willing to step on and over others in the climb to the top, I never met them. From mailroom to boardroom, everyone took pride in giving their best, knowing that yearly raises, health insurance and job security would be our reward.
Before the advent of PPOs and HMOs, most large firms had their own medical departments. Staff doctors were available to provide Band-Aids for paper cuts or a chest x-ray to rule out TB. There were extras, too; little bonuses we got every day - the twice daily coffee and donut cart (gratis), an inexpensive company cafeteria offering fare that quickly shattered any comparison to Horn and Hardart, the opportunity to buy products at highly discounted prices and, my personal favorite, testing new products before they were made available to the general public. I remember leaving work one evening with a supply of frozen waffles and a bottle of Mrs. Butterworth - she of the amber glass and enigmatic smile. Mrs. Butterworth is still my favorite pancake syrup.
After a year at Lever, I was offered a job in the executive offices of a well-known Wall Street bank. Wow! Things were different there. Sure, we still had a company cafeteria and a medical department, but decorum was sadly lacking. I quickly learned that if the copy room door was closed, DO NOT ENTER. Embarrassed as I was at finding someone Xeroxing their nether region, I would have been more mortified had I opened the door on the tryst of the day. Open floor plans allowed for secretaries and bankers to maximize space without barriers. Cubicles would have been better. I have often thought that here is where lap dancing got its start. Some of the recipients have gone on to great success in the financial world. Whenever I see their names in print, I wonder if the now president of a global bank allows his employees to fraternize in so familiar a way.
Like everyone who keeps abreast of the news, I am aware of the special threat sexual harassment suits are to corporations today. No longer is a worker's compensation claim the primary cause for legal action. Now, "My, you look pretty," strikes greater fear in the hearts of human resources directors than "Oh, my aching back!" Twenty five years ago, little thought was given to the jokes and innuendo that were a part of every office. In fact, women were rarely offended by what they heard. They were as often the perpetrator as the target. Taking offense became the norm once the realization that "money talks" was not just an axiom. Since my return to the office, I have found it interesting that the women who run fastest to HR with a complaint are the very ones who can strip a guy naked with a glance.
Personally, I was saddened when it became taboo to offer complements on appearance to co-workers. Everyone likes to hear that they look nice, that a particular color flatters them, or perhaps, that the new power suit was worth the cost. When people feel proud, it is reflected in their work and not every comment has a hidden agenda. Recently, some of my colleagues have chided me for not taking a firmer stance on this issue, claiming that I am setting women's liberation back, well, twenty five years. My response is that I don't want to be equal; I've been superior since birth. That's why I have a pedestal. The view is great, I never get my feet wet in the rain, doors are opened for me and men stand and pull out a chair when I approach their table. Oh, yeah, they usually pay the bill. In war, the general with the larger army will often lose to the general with the better strategy. While my colleagues are grossing among themselves about how unfair the world is for women, I am infiltrating enemy ranks...and I do it by remaining every bit a lady.
The banking world soured quickly for me and I moved on to become the assistant to the president of one of the largest Japanese stock brokerage houses in New York. Talk about culture shock! That's next week's story.