I come to you, dear readers, from the far side of the divide between the gainfully employed and those of us surfing the internet at 10:30 a.m. in our pj’s.
Unexciting as that sounds, it’s a place I’ve been relishing for a few months now as the rest of old, white mankind huddles in terror in the workplace.
I suppose the terror has always been there, at least subconsciously, but especially lately as accusations took on the currency of facts. He said something inappropriate, he made me feel uncomfortable. He brushed up against me in the break room. He made a comment about my appearance.
I was guilty, at least, of that last one. If someone had a snappy new outfit, or haircut, or a new poodle on a leash, I might say something horrible like, “You look nice today,” or “What a cute puppy!”
Never once was the reply, “What do you mean by THAT?” But it could have been.
Luckily, I spent the last half of my career – 23 years – at the Leader, which is described by one staffer who had worked at a larger newspaper as “the most boring newsroom ever” for in-office entanglements and intrigue. To which I added, thank God.
It probably had more to do with demographics than a lack of animal instincts. We all came to the paper, starting back in 1994, as well-seasoned, mid-career workers, nearly all of us married. In other words, BORING!
In my 20s and single, I worked in other newsrooms where considerable mixing and matching took place. Considering the ridiculous hours most of us worked, it was the only pond we had time to fish.
Even in those innocent days, particularly as some of us slowly rose through the ranks of management, we learned there were rules of appropriate behavior, even though I don’t ever remember anyone spelling them out. Being management material required picking up on that stuff.
For example, you never dated anyone you supervised. That’s just good sense. It was good sense not to date people you worked with, too, but there was that small pond issue. You made sure you weren’t alone in closed rooms with anyone who put off any kind of accusatory or victim vibe. Or really, almost anyone who was a subordinate.
One time we had a young reporter who used to flirt on the phone with a police chief who was probably 25 years older than her. He always took her calls, which was useful, but her technique was over the top. I called her on it one day.
“WHAT are you suggesting I am?” she said, coming out of her shoes.
“Unprofessional,” I replied. “This isn’t high school.”
Luckily for me, the conversation took place in the newsroom. I probably wouldn’t have liked her version had it been done in private.
In the last few weeks, there has been an avalanche of women making sexual harassment claims at well-known old white men – President Donald Trump, U.S. Sen. Al Franken, U.S. Senate candidate Roy Moore, Hollywood mogul Harvey Weinstein, TV host Charlie Rose, New York Times White House reporter Glenn Thrush.
Every news cycle seems to introduce a new Creep of the Day.
If those charges are true, then fry them all. But proof can be elusive, especially when the charges are decades old, or when the alleged misconduct occurred before they had their current jobs.
In the case of elected officials, while the behavior is unacceptable, voters have to bear some of the responsibility. Minnesotans elected Franken, a comedian, as a U.S. senator. What could possibly have gone wrong?
President Trump showed his colors in the Access Hollywood tape: “You know, I’m automatically attracted to beautiful — I just start kissing them,” he said. “It’s like a magnet. Just kiss. I don’t even wait. And when you’re a star, they let you do it. You can do anything.”
That’s who the voters selected. It really speaks to what a reviled and repulsive candidate they considered Hillary Clinton to be. That, or a nationwide case of brain fever.
The Weinstein saga, though one of the best documented in proving what a schmuck this guy was, confirmed what had been a Hollywood cliche for a century – the casting couch. He wasn’t the first by a long shot. Where is the outrage against the others? Who are the others?
We have turned a corner in America where women feel empowered to say this is unacceptable and they won’t take it anymore. And they shouldn’t have to.
Old white guys are going to have to adjust. Schmucks beware, but even benevolent bosses who put a hand on the shoulder of a crying employee, or who are, by their nature, huggers, are going to have to dial it back, however unnatural that is for them.
It’s going to make American workplaces a lot more sterile and unfeeling. Don’t tell a joke – it might offend someone. For God’s sake, don’t say a new hairdo is attractive.
Because of a few who felt license to abuse their power and positions, workplaces that already were respectful and safe will lose more than they gain.
In the America I’ve seen, there are a lot more of us than there are of them, but now we’ll all pay.
