...and I've still got a long way to go

The office I work in is made up entirely of women…and me. There are only five of us total…but everyone but me is female including my immediate boss. Some days, actually most days maybe, there is even some speculation about my real gender. The funny thing is it’s been that way for a long time…and I cannot tell you the number of times people have said something to me like “are you sure you’re not a woman?” Actually…that question has been posed to me for many years…but we’ll get back to that later.

It’s not always easy being the only guy in the office, but the experience has taught me a lot about the bias involved in the way people the often perceive power and gender. Sadly though, even with the benefit of such insight, I still routinely commit the same types of sins…and managed to do so yet again this week…which is why it’s the subject of today’s blog.

As a 52 year-old male, most of the time I’m amazed as how far this country has come. With at least the possibility of the first woman President a reality, I’m often baffled at the continued clamoring about sexism that still exists today. Sure, like a lot of people I still see glimpses of it, but to hear ongoing claims of prejudice, especially with respect to women, often seems exaggerated. But then something happens like happened to me this week…and I’m reminded there is some genuine fire behind that smoke.

My first exposure to an understated way this can manifest itself occurred while dining out some female colleagues some time ago. We were sitting in a popular restaurant we used to go to frequently enjoying lunch when the maître ‘d stopped by as he always to verify that everything was all good. I loved the fact that he always checked in on us, but as I looked up I noticed my two female dinning partners exchanging a glance and rolling their eyes in disgust.

“What…you don’t like that guy?” I asked.

“I just find that unbelievable” responded one of them.

“Why…you think it’s weird that he always checks on us…what’s wrong with that?” I countered.

“There wouldn’t be if he was checking on us…but the only one he’s really checking on is you” she shot back.

“What are you talking about?” I asked completely baffled.”

“Oh common” the other female diner said… “like you don’t know.”

“I have completely zero idea what the hell you’re both talking about” I shot back.

“Have you ever noticed that every time that guy comes over to our table…he only looks at and addresses only you?”

“No” I responded. “But even if that’s true…maybe it’s because I’m so handsome.”

“No…trust us…that’s not the reason. It’s because you’re a guy, he just presumes you’re in charge and you’re buying.”

“Maybe he’s just perceptive and I give off that kind of confident vibe of a leader” I countered.

“Dream on” one of them responded… “don’t flatter yourself”

Just as a side note…I think that could still be it.

Since that incident I’ve seen it play out over and over, often in subtle ways…but very real nonetheless. I’ve often been introduced to complete strangers along with a woman that out ranks me, only to have the person I’ve just been introduced to unknowingly direct a disproportionate amount of their attention toward me…or some other male, as if they somehow presume it’s the guy that must really have the power.

Several weeks ago while out west I was in a meeting with a couple of folks I didn’t know at all. There were a few of us in the room, including a man and a woman from an outside organization. The fellow sat at the head of the table and his female colleague adjacent to him on his left. I should have looked at their organization chart more closely, but I recklessly proceeded to address the group giving a very disproportionate amount of attention to the male presuming he was in charge.

 

A certified moron would have figured this out long before me, but after the woman responded to almost all of the initial questions, it dawned on me (probably long after the rest of my colleagues) that the woman out ranked the guy. Sadly…I recognized that I’d just presumed he was in charge…and to be honest…I can’t imagine how idiotic I must have looked to the two of them. It was yet another painful lesson that despite my recent office gender experience, I haven’t evolved near as much as I’d like to think.

There’s yet another weird thing I’ve learned while working around all these women…and it’s about the way they handle conflict…or at least difficult relational situations. As a rough-n-tumble guy (or at least that’s the way I like to see myself), I’ve sat in many a meeting with male colleagues where we’re sort of advocating “screwing” some organization or individual over to our way of thinking. It’s sort of tantamount to marching folks to the altar with a shotgun to their respective head…but come hell or high-water, we’re going to get something accomplished our way on our terms. But most of the women I’ve worked with take a more indirect, less in-your-face approach…trying instead to woo folks to their way of thinking by initially genuinely listening to the concerns and needs of those their dealing with. Come to think of it, several of the most effective male leaders I've had the privilege of observing over the years have done it the same way.

I was having a conversation about 10 years ago in California with a very high-ranking woman about developing a strategy designed to heal a longstanding rift with an outside organization. I was lamenting all of the conversations I’d had on the subject where the discussion seemed to be focusing on somehow leveraging our power and bringing the outside group to their knees thus coercing them back into the relationship. I was complaining about the fact that I thought it would be so much smarter to let the group save face and invest time into wooing them back. Then, as I talked, the accomplished woman leader suddenly stopped…smiled, and astonishingly responded to me by saying “oh my god…maybe it’s true what they say about you…you might actually be a woman.”

What’s the point of all this? Hell if I know…I’m guessing there isn’t really much of one. Could be I’m trying to curry favor with my office colleagues…but I have a feeling it’s more about being haunted by behaving like a fool in the meeting referenced above…especially knowing what I should know by virtue of my work environment.  Could be too that this is all I could come up with at 4am on a Friday…which might be yet more evidence to consider if you ever think you want to take on the obligation of writing a weekly blog. If you’re ever tempted…keep this post and use it as a rationale to fight that urge.

Have a great weekend…and if you’re inclined to spend too much of it working at the expense of your family and friends…fight that urge too.

 

The prettiest place on earth is Baltimore at night...

...and after a 52-year shutout, somebody finally randomly picked up the tab

So I wrote  this blog on an early Friday morning roughly two years ago, and for all the reasons that follow, I’m hopeful you’ll agree that it’s appropriate to revisited the subject again today. The post which originally appeared on Friday, December 7^th, 2012 (hmmm…seems like that date should matter for a different reason), highlighted a friend’s remarkable ability to consistently get free drinks and meals provided to her by total strangers…usually on Fridays.

In summary, she had this uncanny knack for having random people or bartenders pick up her drinks…and even entire meals when she would dine out alone on Fridays. She was so successful in her quest to get free drinks and meals on the last work day of the week, that we came to referring to the phenomenon as “free Fridays.” Much of the old post expressed my frustration over the fact that I’d NEVER had such luck (despite the reality that I habitually and anonymously pick up other tabs), and that at the time of the writing (I was 51), I’d never once had anyone randomly buy me either a drink or a meal. Never.

To be clear, I’ve certainly had a friend or colleague buy me lunch…but I’d never once had that silver-screen experience of a waiter whispering that the check was picked up by a grateful restaurant owner, or an appreciative business associate at an adjacent table or the mysterious blonde at the end of the bar. Not a single freakin’ time in 51 years. 

As the original post reveals, it bothered me so much that I even talked about my drought with my “free Friday” friend. We explored possible reasons for her success at obtaining gratis drinks and meals, and even examined possible explanations for my lifetime of being denied that same pleasure. At one point, she even confidently offered up the likely explanation that my misfortune was due the strong  possibility that I was simply “just an As#hole.”

Well…I’m not always the greatest listener, but for some reason I took an interest in her hypothesis and started to experiment a bit on my longstanding shutout. As alluded to in the 2012 piece…I actually enjoy my alone time…so much so that I routinely lie about my lunch plans (especially on Fridays) just so I can slip away and take a solitary spot at a local watering hole. As an only child, I just enjoy the solitude…and there’s something about sitting alone with a Cabernet I.V. and having the opportunity to th(dr)ink that I’ve always found therapeutic.

About a week after the old blog I ventured out for lunch on a Friday decided to go to a new place. I took my preferred spot at the end of the unfamiliar bar (so nobody could sit on at least one side of me) and rather than coldly placing my order and minding my own business as usual, I decided to try to up my personality game and returned the barmaid’s upbeat banter with my own pleasant responses.  The girl tending bar that Friday appeared to be less than half my age…and though I typically don’t notice these things, she was clearly way better looking than me (I know…low bar) and certainly more attractive than the average bartender (or for that matter average anything).

Given her appearance and the fact that she was serving drinks, I unfairly presumed she didn’t have a whole lot going on upstairs (Lord knows what she likely initially thought of me…but I’m guessing she presumed I was some sort of cross between a leading man, thoracic heart surgeon and Olympic athlete/astronaut/medal of honor recipient). At some point early on in the conversation, she made the observation that I “must be an only child.”

“How’d you come to that conclusion?” I asked somewhat puzzled that she’d luckily nailed it in a very short amount of time.

“Well…you’re in here alone and you seem pretty confident and able to enjoy your own company” she matter-of-factly responded.

OK…so I misread the airhead assessment (and forgot about the fact that she works for tips)…this gal is obviously very astute and a good judge of people. She went on to tell me that she was studying to get her Masters…and it was pretty clear pretty quickly that she was markedly smarter than me (I know...another low bar). We went on to have an animated conversation about how patrons treat people in the service industry (like her), and it was obvious she’d made the most of her time behind the bar and was wise way beyond her years.

Then…without any warning or fanfare…it happened. Without asking, she turned around, picked up the bottle of BV Cabernet and refilled my wine glass while noting “this one is on me.”

Boom…the 51-year drought was over in an instant. It was like Christmas, the Fourth of July and my birthday all rolled into one. Unfortunately the euphoria didn’t last long before I started to dwell on my free Friday friend’s hypothesis regarding my five decades of being skunked. It suddenly dawned on me that her “A-hole” theory was dead on. Until this day I’d never had anyone randomly buy me anything…but as I thought about it more I realized I’d probably been coming off like a closed off as#hole.

Amazingly, I now get free drinks fairly frequently (just as a side note...it doesn’t hurt to be decent tipper) but some time ago I hit the big time. Roughly six months ago I was dinning with a friend at a local upscale restaurant I frequent when the waiter came over and said… “this one is on John” (the maître d). Last Tuesday…while eating at the same high-class joint with a work colleague and dear friend, the waiter surprised me by letting us know our entire lunch had been picked up by some diners inside. The best part was I don’t have much of a business relationship with the pair that made the generous gesture…they just did it consistent with the great culture of their successful company…because it was a nice thing to do. No agenda…just being cool.    

What’s the point of all this? Normally I don’t know either…but this one seems pretty clear. Don’t be like me…or more succinctly…don’t be an A-hole…especially if you want some free drinks and a complimentary lunch every 51 years. The bigger lesson though seems to be one we often learn in kindergarten, but that I somehow so frequently seem to forget. Don’t judge a book by its cover. I still do it every day…and as someone that routinely laments the fact that my professional opinion is consistently ignored because I’m thought of as “just a construction worker,” I’m particularly sensitive to it when it’s repeatedly done to me. Hey...I wonder if that's happening because I'm acting like an as#hole?

My first free drink experience also reminded me once again why most people should spend some time working in the service industry, whether it’s waiting tables, delivery newspapers, mixing Manhattans, working retail or even cutting in ground fault interrupter receptacles above granite kitchen counter tops. There’s something about such real life duty that trumps (or at least compliments) anything you can learn at Harvard Business School...and if you make the most of it, such early life lessons will serve you very well later in the game. 

Have a great weekend and if you can, do something you enjoy with the people that matter the most to you. You can get caught up too much with work…but when they tally up the score at the end of regulation…it’s the people and friendships and how you treated and nurtured them that will dwarf anything you have going on at the office.

...in this bar on Fairfax