This article (Female company president: “I’m sorry to all the mothers I worked with”) has been going around the Interwebs. Have you read it? If you’re a parent in the workforce it will probably be of interest to you. It’s seemingly about gender. The author, who was in a powerful position, admits to a glaring bias as it pertained to hiring mothers.
She’s since changed her tune, but I’m thinking that her story is really about kindness, understanding, and a lack thereof.
The workplace is a microcosm of the world, and the truth is that there will always be jerks who will end up in management positions. There will always be good employees and bad ones. There are all kinds of people in the work force, with all kinds of prejudices and misconceptions. The trick is to surround yourself with the RIGHT people and hope that you can change those who have crappy/prejudicial/idiotic ideas about hiring mothers/fathers/[insert whatever demographic here].
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It seems a lifetime ago that I worked full-time in an office environment. I remember how little time we had to spend with our eldest, who was a baby at the time. This was back when maternity leave was only six months long. Not very long at all. We’d pick her up at the end of our workday. Her bedtime was 6:30. It was unavoidable. She’d nod off to sleep at the same time every night, sometimes in her high chair if we were having a “late” dinner. I remember how sad I felt that I wasn’t able to spend much time with her, that the Italian nonna we left her with every day knew her better than we did.
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It wasn’t easy, being a parent and working full-time. After the time with the nonna, we added another kid to the count. We had one car, and the multiple array of issues that go with having two working parents: surprise meetings and work emergencies, thrown-together dinners, and sick days… oh the sick days. Of course it was not just our own sick days, but our children’s sick days. I remember the feeling I’d get, sitting at my desk, when the phone rang. Once glance at the call display revealing that it was the daycare calling. My first thought was always “oh no,” and I’d pick up the phone with the dread that comes with not knowing what kind of wrench was going to be thrown in my day. It was almost always a fever. Or pink eye. Someone seemed to get pink eye every week. One of the kids was bitten once. Man, those were the days.
It was always a rush to get to daycare in the afternoon. They start charging if you’re late. One time it was discovered our car had a flat at the end of the workday. Mark took it to the tire place and I called a cab so I could get to daycare before (a) they started charging us and (b) our kid started to think we had abandoned her. The cab took ages to pick me up. I thought I’d have a heart attack waiting for it, and again in the back seat during the stop and go rush hour traffic. Mark and I arrived at the daycare at the same time. Me, leaping from the back of a cab, him, with a newly fixed tire.
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I remember a conversation I had with my boss back then. I told him I needed some time to bring my kid to a dental appointment. I was standing, he was sitting. A desk separated us. Scratch that, MORE than a desk separated us. He seemed unhappy that I was asking for time, but agreed, begrudgingly. I was grateful, but the gratitude was swiftly replaced by anger. I was angry that I practically had to plead for time off in this way. I always met my deadlines. I worried and cared about client projects as if they were my own personal projects. I put in my share of time and emotional investment, and more often than not the work was thankless. Wouldn’t it have been nice – so progressive – for him to say, without a flicker of a grimace, “OF COURSE ANDREA. Take some time to take your child to the dentist. I understand this is something important you need to do for you and your family. We know you work hard and meet your deadlines, so go ahead, and don’t worry.”
Then again, why is this behaviour considered progressive? Shouldn’t it be the norm?
I am a busy mamma, but I’m one with a flexible schedule. For this, I am eternally grateful. Our youngest is sick at home with the flu this week and I’m happy I can be here for her and still get work done. Frankly, I don’t understand how working parents do it. You know what would help though? I lot more empathy for starters.
