Folie a Deux

God love Wikipedia:

Folie à deux (literally, "a madness shared by two") is a rare psychiatric syndrome in which a symptom of psychosis (particularly a paranoid or delusional belief) is transmitted from one individual to another.

At the office one of the three survivors - including me
- in our department is crazy as a bedbug.

Sweet as she can be, bless her heart, and I love her to death but she is Patsy Cline on steroids Cray-zee.

And I'm catching it, apparently, only presenting dissimilar symptoms.

So Bedbug and I are in a meeting today with New Bosslady and Bedbug is still upset about an incident that happened last Thursday. (Let me clarify that Bedbug temporarily reports to me). A guy in our department - Blowhard - got upset and confronted her and instead of standing up for herself and giving it right back to him...she cried.

Now, I would not identify myself as a Feminist but neither am I about to ever let you see me cry. Oh, hell no. And if you accuse me of something ridiculous or back me into a corner, Brother, look out because I can dish it right back tenfold and you will NOT know what hit you until you regain consciousness and find my stiletto poised above your Adam's apple.

So last week Blowhard gives Bedbug what for. Asks a rhetorical question, very loudly, that I - personally - would not have let go as rhetorical. He did it in front of me - her supervisor - and I calmly said, "Let's look at this: no one gave her - or any of us - clear direction, we've been left to our own devices without a single resource and considering the situation she did a damn fine job."
At which point blowhard cooled off, acknowledged things were not as dire as he thought, and we all went back to neutral corners. But it was too late for Bedbug who was in her office in a puddle.
Fast-forward to today. Bosslady (someone I would identify as a Feminist) tells Bedbug that she will not tolerate bullying and that the next time one of The Good Old Boys makes her upset or uncomfortable that she is to go straight to Human Resources and report him. Does she understand? "Yes, ma'am."

Bosslady looks at me, "The same goes for you...except that you'd never go to HR."
"No, I wouldn't."
"Because you're one of the boys."
"Excuse me?"
"You're one of them."

Okay, so you just ran down The Good Old Boy Network - which I applaud - and then turn around a call me a Good Old Boy with boobs. Nice.

The rest of the meeting proceeds uneventfully, we get up to leave and I look at her and very nicely say, "I am not one of the boys, I just happen to have balls."

So what? So I was hired into a misogynistic environment and I adapted. I figured out the system and I've played within it very well. I don't bat my eyelashes and bend over in front of them, I do my homework, know what I'm talking about and talk to them in their own language. Does that make me a traitor to my gender? Apparently so.

I guess I'm also a traitor to my species since the guys in Engineering like me because I know they have no social skills so I don't ask them to come to meetings. Instead I go to them when I need something. I get them. And I get the IT guys. I buy them donuts when they go out of their way for me. I laugh at "All your bases are belong to us" jokes don'tcha know.

And finally I am a traitor to my company. The people at another company we bought out - The Enemy - like me because I ::gasp:: don't treat them like the enemy.
I make a freaking effort to get along with everyone. So sue me!

What a shitty thing to say to me. "You're one of the boys."

I think the next time we're alone I'll snap my thong in front of Bosslady and mumble, "Damn jock strap...."


Comet Girl said…
Oh no she dit-ent! If she only knew what fresh Hell we came from. Theory of Evolution aside if she's made it this long without learning the special nuances of getting along with "them" then there's no help for her. Pity her, then slap her on the ass and tell her she looks real purdy today. Damn! That pisses me off!!!
Country Girl said…
I'll save you an empty container of The Big Boy's tobacco...I don't know what it is but it's nasty and it goes in your bottom lip. You can just walk around with the round tin in your back pocket, and an empty water bottle with a couple of teaspoons of coffee in it.

You are a saint, well disguised. And that woman is insane.