If I Was A Man, I’d Be The Man
Yes, those words are from a Taylor Swift song. Don’t judge me quite yet.
I can’t say she is my favourite performer or even within my musical style, but those words made me listen to her song over and over again, until this song found itself in my ‘Liked’ folder on Spotify.
It took me a while to understand how those words affect my day-to-day, why my heartbeat goes up when hearing them, and when I realised I couldn’t shake it off, and honestly, I shouldn’t.
I was asked this week by my manager “How many years of experience do you have?” — he was preparing for a board meeting and wanted to showcase his team of directors, myself and two male colleagues.
It was great to share between the three of us more about the journeys we took to get where we are now. We all gladly told the stories of our most mentionable milestones in the career, when we became managers and in which companies we were given the opportunity. All in all, nice 10 minutes from our sales management meeting.
But this is not at all the reason for my late obsession with teenage pop.
What I haven’t shared during this meeting is way more dominant in my story, and I’m sure, in the stories of many young women who are hustling their way to the top.
My first job in tech was a student gig at IBM. I walked into the blue giant knowing nothing about corporate, politics or sales for that manner. I met during my time there, many different people some of which wanted to help and become a positive influence and some not. But whom I remember the most is a sales manager, I’ll call him A.
A was much older than me and way more experienced, he even managed a team of salespeople — a rising star in the sales organisation. He was intimidating to everyone, his strong personality and at times, threatening tone were a “well known” factor on our floor. I met with his rage many times, and felt almost proud to be in the group of A’s “victims”. it meant I was playing with the big boys — and believe it or not, I wanted nothing else. I truly saw it as an amusing experience, one I can gossip about with my friends during lunch. Well, at least until one day, the “friendly fire” turned into violence.
I was entering a room to speak with A after a very heated email thread, and as I was walking in, A jumped from his chair and smashed the door into my face.
I remember the rest of the day in a blur, I spoke with my friends and they all supported me in going to the HR. I think my direct manager suggested the same. I spoke with HR. I went on with my day.
Later this week, A’s manager, the head of Software Sales (a very big shot in other words) came to me, we were smoking buddies and from time to time we’d share a cigarette and a small talk.
He told me that he personally apologises for what I experienced, that it’s unacceptable, but I have to understand:
I’m a very young woman, with less experience and a very strong and opinionated voice.
For some people, like A, this is very difficult to accept. Even if what I was saying is true.
Was it the first time I heard that my unapologetic delivery is not pleasantly accepted by all?
No.
But it definitely was the first time someone spelled it out for me.
My way has a price, and it will be a personal price to pay.
A stayed at his role, he has never apologised or taken responsibility for his actions.
Years have passed, over those years I had multiple conversations with mentors, colleagues and managers about the way some people react to me.
They will get angry, when they hear me not taking their position, fight their way or provide an alternative angle to look at the problem at hand.
Whatever the personal price I’m paying, I’ve never saw value in being loved by all, but I do see value in putting the spotlight at the correct direction — however inconvenient it is, ask the hard questions and openly challenge opinions.
Today I’m 30, many years have passed since I worked with the actual A, but he reveals himself to me from time to time.
They come under different names and in different forms, nevertheless, they are part of our life. They will try to undermine anyone who isn’t falling into their self claimed superiority or charm.
The As’ of the world are smart, they truly are, they can choose the hard way of respectful dialogue, of questioning themselves and taking responsibility for wrong decisions or failures.
They can, but they consciously choose not to.
I can only guess it’s easier to send your manager to apologise, with a sad look in their eyes and a sweet voice. The big shot will explain to you they are sorry for A’s behaviour and how they promise to speak with him and make a change.
But also they will ask you:
Could you please hold your tongue? Because you have to understand, it’s very unpleasant for A to be challenged and without any sugar coating as well. It’s my personal request — can you please try?
To all those request, I’ll answer here to save time:
I can’t and I will not.
Why?
Because, If I was a man, Then I’d be The Man.
