Do you ever get to a place in your life that feels like deja vu? We wonder how in the hell we got ourselves back into the same place - maybe the people change - maybe they don't. However, much to our great disdain, the events are eerily familiar.
Back in 1996 Brian was a newborn. I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom until he reached four years of age. My husband, at the time was a successful loan officer. I planned carefully for a long maternity leave. I couldn't wait to spend endless hours lying on the floor kissing my little one's belly and hearing him laugh. You see, I was told that I could not have children, so Brian was the dark horse no one saw coming. I knew this would be my one and only chance to be a mom. I ask my husband to promise me the opportunity to be a stay-at-home mom until Brian is four. He agrees, and promises I will have my mommy time with Brian.
I am on cloud nine during my entire pregnancy. I love every single moment. Elisabet becomes pregnant at the same time. Since she works for the same mortgage company, we often walk up to each other, touch bellies and laugh at our fat ankles. She is having a girl...Kelsie. We are both unbelievably excited. We plan to work up to our delivery days, since we need a place to go to help contain our eager anticipation.
Six weeks before Brian is born, my husband decides he can't handle the pressure of being a loan officer and quits his job. He never discusses it with me, and didn't tell me. It was a decision he made on his own, without a second thought as to how I would feel.
I was a regional manager at the time, and we were both working for the same mortgage company. My boss came to find me in my office. He is this wonderful man, a mentor, and like a father figure to me. He pulls up a chair and gently takes my right hand in his. I remember thinking he is going to fire me. He then tells me my husband quit his job. I look at him in stunned silence as he pulls out a white, pressed handkerchief from his pocket and places it in my hand. Oddly, I can’t cry. He continues by saying he saw my husband leave the building with his desk contents and knew I didn’t know. My boss wants to be the one to tell me before the rumors reach my staff. He is so kind.
I could go into a lengthy story of what happens next. Basically, my husband never goes back to work. The delicious stay-at-home mom life I dreamed of, fades into oblivion. I use the money I saved for maternity leave to go back to school to become a certified network technician. I work odd jobs around my class schedule. Little did I fully realize I am already planning my divorce. I beg my husband to find work, but he always has a reason for each job not 'panning out'. I hope once he sees me counting pennies on the floor, gathering enough money for diapers, he will do anything. Instead, he naps in the bedroom.
I am one of the first women to graduate from this particular technical program at the school. I somehow manage straight A’s; I still don't know how I did it. If I can land a technical job immediately after graduation, then the school will qualify for a state grant program that helps other women obtain a technical career. One problem ... no one wants to hire a technician without field experience. It is looking like I am going to have to find something else. But I desperately want other women to be able to attend this school.
Then, a position becomes available at one of the largest remaining Savings and Loans in the world, located downtown. It is only one branch office, but so solid in its assets, the feds never closed their savings and loan charter. (Yes, they are THAT rich). The position is for a loan closing manager. Ok, it isn't exactly technical, but part of the job description includes creating the loan programs in their mortgageflex system. It is programming 101, along with the different bank reports I will have to generate. Also, the closing manager helps trouble-shoot system issues. I understand this kind of bank - everyone participates in everything. In checking with the dean of the school, the position details will still qualify them for the state grant. Whew hew.
I apply for the job. Now, if you ever see my resume you'd know I can do this particular job with my eyes closed. I don't think the ink is dry on the fax copy of my resume when they began calling me for an interview. I remember how excited my husband was -he polished my black pumps for my interview. I kept thinking, "Why isn't this YOU doing a job interview?" It was useless to say anything, unless I want a yelling fight. His temper was beginning to scare me, and I don't scare easily.
It is the kind of interview process I hate, and have learned over the years it usually indicates a horrible place to work. I first interview is with the guy I will replace. I then interview with the guy I am replacing and my new boss. Then there are the background checks and any necessary explanations about my credit. How does one explain a husband that won't work? I wear the same suit to every interview. How stupid do you have to be? Then there is the interview with the VP over the department, then the owner of the bank. I kept waiting to give blood and sign over my next born. I already hate it and I haven't even started working. I have stopped eating lunch and dinner to save money for Brian's formula.
The day they call me to tell me I have the job, I hang up the phone and cry. It is official: I am in hell. The bank has strict rules and policies for everything. I swear I am only allowed to breathe every Monday, Wednesday and Friday (if convenient for the bank). I am still trying to lose the baby weight, and few things in my closet fit me. I can't afford new clothes, but I have some nice dress pants that I make work. The second day I am there I am told: "Pants for women are not allowed. You must wear skirts". ARE YOU F***ING KIDDING ME?
I am searching the newspaper job classifieds for something else by the end of my first day. The guy I am replacing spends my first three weeks training me before he runs screaming from the building. He keeps looking at me with this "I'm sorry" face, which I don't yet understand. I have one black skirt which fits and a husband who keeps telling me the job will get better. Lucky for me, a processor who I worked with at the mortgage company (back when I was pregnant) is a processor in the loan department at the bank. On my first day she whispers, "What in the hell are YOU doing here?" She is this spunky older woman who remembers me for all the fighting I did for my staff of 96 back at the mortgage company. She recalls how I changed everything when I went to work for the mortgage company. "Please tell me you are going to change this place" she says every day at lunch.
How does a redhead fight an institution...?... and I desperately need the money. They pay me a mere $2500 a month to be a manager. I only carry health insurance on Brian and claim maximum deductions, to bring home as much money as I can. My husband has most of it spent before I can deposit my check. We are now having screaming arguments every night after Brian goes to sleep. For better, or worse, for richer, or poorer...in death...
Enter the Thursday of the third week ... the day before the guy I am replacing's last day. It is the day the Board of Directors meet upstairs in the boardroom. The bank is a flutter of activity straightening everything. You would think the President of the United States is coming for lunch. Everyone is in suits, except me. I am in my black skirt, black stockings, white blouse and a soft pink sweater. My boss gives me the once over look - you know the look you get when you have toilet paper on your shoe. I am thrilled the white blouse finally fits ... and I am clean ... free of baby throw up.
At 10:30 the guy I am replacing comes to me and tells me he needs to teach me what I need to do on "the meeting of the board day". My staff of six looks at me like drowning kittens do when they want to be rescued. I follow him upstairs, as he informs me that my department "sets up the board room" for each board meeting. I am thinking, "Ok, some presentation slides, some pencils, pads, water..." Hell no. We set up the table for lunch. Napkins have to be folded a certain way, the best silver is brought out and polished, wine opened, crystal glasses placed in just the right spot ... pull the fine china from a certain locked cupboard in the kitchen. Special coffee is to be perculated, and the dessert tray prepared. ARE YOU F***ING KIDDING ME?
It gets better. He then tells me I will take each board members order for lunch, while my staff pour wine and get water. I am to call the orders into a local restaurant and go pick them up. I stare at him like one of those kittens drowning in water. My staff will then take the food and transfer it to the china and serve it to the board. ARE YOU F***ING KIDDING ME?
By now to get me through my days, I wear a Saint Jude pendent, which is pinned to my bra. I feel the cold metal against my breast, which reminds me somewhere God has to be watching over me, somehow. The guy who is leaving says, "I am sorry I didn't tell you about this, but I was afraid you wouldn't take the job and I have to get out of here." He tells me how all the middle management are on anti-depressants or drink to get through the day. Anger is beginning to well within my belly. I can see background checks are an effective way to hire... if this bank is any indication of a perfect "background" then I want to be working with the below 300 credit score crowd...
Pride can help with certain things, but when one needs a paycheck, it's set aside. The guy leaving and I finish prepping the board room and return to my department. I can set a mean dining room table, skills my mother taught me in the hopes I would be entertaining Governors someday. I now fully understand the sad faces of my staff. They hate the day the board meets. Here, they have loans to close, a job they are well qualified to do, and they must stop to play catering staff to the board... with me as ring leader.
I return to my desk and begin to sign funding checks. As each staff member comes to me with their checks to be signed, they ask, "Are you going to change this?" Holy crap, I have a baby to feed, a husband that won't work. I am tired, and depressed from fighting with him everyday and now I must save the staff? The fire in my belly grows hotter. At 11:30, the board members begin to arrive. The guy I am replacing picks up an order sheet, restaurant menus from his desk and signals me to come with him. One of my loan closers follow. We go back upstairs and begin to wait on the board members as they arrive, with the guy I am replacing writing down their special lunch orders. We pour wine, and several of the board members recognise me. I was the wedding consultant who helped with their childrens wedding, or I am the girl they sit near in church, or I am friends with their children, or I waited on them at Rosenburgs years ago or they knew my mother from symphony league. Not one of them look me in the eye. You can cut the tension in the room with a feather.
We complete their orders and return to our desks where the guy I am replacing calls the restaurant and orders all the lunches. I work for one of the wealthiest banks and they won't pay for a catering service to serve the board lunch? I am certain I have entered the twilight zone. Twenty minutes later, we leave in my car to go pick the food up. The guy I am replacing is beginning to unload more and more stories about the bank. My stomache is on fire. We get to the restaurant where everything is placed in these giant carrying boxes and I run into a waiter I know. "Welcome to my world" he says as he winks at me.
There is something that happens to a redhead when a cute guy winks at her. It is as if he softly slaps me awake. I notice his white apron tied neatly around his waist. "Do you have an extra one of those for me" I say, pointing to his apron. "Sure, I'll get one from the back" he smiles, as I watch his ass as he walks away from me. The guy I am replacing is busy loading my car with boxes of food. The waiter brings me a crisp white apron. I tuck it under my arm and kiss his cheek, "Thanks for this" I tell him. He grins, "No problem". I leave. He is most certainly not watching my ass.
We return to the bank and I tell my staff I won't be needing their help. They look at me in shock. The guy I am replacing looks at me funny as he passes us carrying the boxes upstairs to the kitchen. I grab a rubber band from my drawer and put my hair in a pigtail. I remove my pink sweater, leaving me in my white blouse and black skirt. I run up the stairs carrying my new apron. I meet the guy I am replacing in the kitchen, as he begins to transfer the food onto the china plates. I wrap the apron around my waist, and pick up the first two plates. He grins, "Oh my God you could get fired". "Lets hope so" I respond. I knock on the door to the board room and enter carrying my first two plates. I wish I had a picture of the VP of my department's face.
I call each of the board members by name, as I gently lay each plate of food in front of them. I fill their wine and water glasses, then stand at attention next to the door waiting to be excused. Finally, the bank president clears his throat and tells me I can leave. I knew I wouuld find myself in someones office before the day was done, but I didn't care. If you are going to make a stand - MAKE A STAND. If you are going to make us be wait staff, then it is only appropriate to dress like wait staff. My staff is in hysterical laughter by the time I return to my desk. The guy I am replacing is worried he'll have to stay beyond his last day.
Have you ever been yelled at my a female VP who hates her job and her life? Well, I have and I can tell you it isn't pleasant. My boss calls me into her office at the end of the day. I am sure my butt shrank two inches due to how much she chewed it. I got the 'I must respect tradition speech'; I got the 'importance of the board speech'; and I got the 'do I know how lucky I am to work for such a prestigious bank' speech. All I hear is "blah blah blah". Her final words to me is to get rid of my black skirt, wear a suit and quit looking like a mom. Her words pierced my soul, and I cried all the way home. I am a mom. I fought long and hard to be a mom. I didn't want to be anything else. Now, I am to deny the one thing that mattered most? I wanted to get up in her face, but there was Brian, and I need the paycheck.
What do I always do when I am lost ... ? ... I call my mom, then I call my friends.
...Continued on next (above) post
C
