There will always be insecure people in this world, perhaps we’re all a little insecure to some extent in some aspects of our lives to a somewhat greater or lesser extent. The trick is in how you deal with it. I have a million and one some days, other days perhaps just a hundred or so… most revolve around the idea that people might not like me. I’m a bit of a marmite character I guess. My enthusiasm can be perceived as fake if people don’t know that that’s how I am. My sarcasm cutting because well it just comes out. Many people don’t see what lies behind the slightly off the wall red head with a few strings to her bow. This week I’d had some suspicions about a new work colleague confirmed. A rather rather insecure woman in a management position who perhaps sees me as a threat. I’ve dealt with these types before. They are so unsure of themselves that they see another woman as competition and so have to try discredit them in order to feel better about themselves. It’s a bit sad really.
I’m my head when I’m a woman in my mid forties I’ll have worked through a lot of my issues, I’m doing this daily, and will be so well grounded that I’ll know myself inside and out well enough to understand my strengths and accept my weaknesses. We all have them, and a weakness is only really a weakness if you can’t accept and control it or allow someone else to fill in that gap when we’re talking professionally.
One thing I can never understand is why women feel threatened by others, we have a hard enough job to do when we are faced with trying to make it in what is still a quite male dominated world. Perhaps this is our downfall as a gender. I will often complain about the “boys club” mentality of some organisations, that’s still present and quite obvious in some places, but actually if women clubbed together and stuck up for each other in the same way a sisterhood would, we’d be a lot stronger than individuals all fighting to get into the boys club where we’ll never quite fit in. That is the reality.
I get it, I get why women do this, we are beating ourselves up constantly, we believe inside that we’re failures so much that when we see another woman who seemingly has it together they’re a threat to our already insecure shakey foundation and might just pip us to that coveted post as honorary girl in the boys club. But it doesn’t have to be that way.
The woman I’m dealing with, who can’t stand my jokes, my knowledge, my being on time for work, my need to have a vape to go think stuff over, my ability to fit in with my peers, my experience of life, doesn’t see or know about the things I have had to do, or overcome to get to where I am. She doesn’t understand that I listen to music because it helps me concentrate. She doesn’t understand that I wear makeup because I’m still not totally over having had terrible skin as a teenager. She doesn’t see that I go to the gym because it releases seretonin so I can cope with depression without pills these days, she just sees a metalhead, who is bold enough to wear red lipstick and works out so must be vain. She doesn’t get that my tattoo has meaning, she didn’t ask, she doesn’t realise that raising a diabetic teen is worrying, that being soul payer of the mortgage, the bills, the organiser, the soother, the fixer and the tidier has its days where going to work is actually a blessing. We have different viewpoints on working. I work to further my experience, learn everything I can and become an expert at what I do, this lady is perhaps here to take the money and make sure people know how important she is.
My way to deal with these people is kindness. Kindness at arms length. If she looks down her nose, I smile at her back. If she seems stressed I’m compassionate and empathise then walk away because shes too busy to help so I’ll go to someone who can, thats better for me and take’s away her power. Sadly these people talk themselves out of being key to an organisation’s sucess because when it comes to the crunch, people will see that the easy stuff was too stressful for them and so they won’t be able to cope with the big stuff. When you rise above someone’s dirty games that are rooted in their own knowledge of their personal and proffessional incometencies you allow them to be the navigator of their own destiny. I have no need to tell tales about the bad things the blonde lady did, because the blonde lady will do it all to herself. When she points fingers at me for the things she saw but didn’t understand, my work will be done to a high standard and everything else wont matter. Whilst she’s spending her paid time ploting, talking shit, flapping; I’m busy, busy doing what I’m paid to do, and its really fucking excellent work too. When my strategy is out there, my plans, my designs, it really won’t matter what colour my hair is, how I dress, what I listen to, my morals, my religion, my home life, or how I travel to work. My strategy and designs will speak for themselves, and I’ll have done it in spite of my perceived short commings, this can only work in my favour.
My reaction will be to smile and say thank you, the audience will know all my so called short comings because the blonde lady told them and they’ll say, well she’s done this and juggled being a single mom to a diabetic, she rides a motorbike to work, how cool, shes perfectly made up like a model yet she talks tech better than the boys. She’s wearing killer heels and yet knows the governance rules that she’s dealing with better than the governance expert in charge. She’s passionate about doing the right thing, she cares about her work, who cares that she does it with loud music to block out the chatter and the flapping on the pod behind her. You see, I have no need to worry because my house is in order. A good general knows that you sort out your own ship and then fire your cannons. If your ship is half manned, and you’ve lost your head, your cannon fire is pointless because theres always a bigger one going to be fired back, and with less men to counter because half have abandoned ship, your ship is going to sink really quickly.