Here are just three of my stories. One of them might be deemed not a microagression but a macroaggression. You be the judge.
[color=red]I.[/color=red] I was 22 or 23 years old and had gone from earning $7,000 a year in my little publishing job, to $8,000, to $8,500. Whoo hoo!! I was eager to leave my company and ready for the next step – all the way up to $9,000 a year. There was an advertisement in the newspaper that led me to call a particular employment agency; I went in to chat with the fellow about possibly appropriate positions he might have available. He stared the entire interview at my knees, but what was more amazing was that he insisted there were no jobs at $9,000 a year. At all. In all of New York City.
Obviously he himself didn’t have any, so he thought I’d buy the fact that they didn’t exist. Just plain didn’t exist. So I’d go for one of the $8,500 jobs.
[color=red]II.[/color=red] I was still 22 or 23 and had told my boss that I was interested in leaving for a new challenge. He was supportive. He had a business acquaintance (let’s call him Mr. L) in a similar line of work who was in town from Minneapolis, and he suggested that the two of us meet to determine if there was mutual interest for me to pursue a job with him in MN.
Now, my current boss was an old friend of my father’s and treated me like his own daughter. I assumed Mr. L would be the same.
Mr. L suggested we have dinner at a specific restaurant. We met at the specific time and had a good conversation. When dinner was over, he said he’d like to continue our conversation but needed to make a phone call from his hotel room. It would just take a minute or two; would I mind? (You can tell what’s coming, can’t you.) Once we got to his hotel room, Mr. L proceeded to throw me on the bed and tried to kiss me. I resisted and he apologized. We continued with our “interview.” I never heard from him about the job and assumed I wouldn’t, given what had happened. Then, six months after we met, I got a very standard, official “Thanks but no thanks” letter in the mail from his company.
Yeah, I was naive as all get-out, but he was a friend of my father’s friend. What could possibly go wrong?
In retrospect, I was damn lucky he stopped. He could easily have raped me, and of course who would I tell? I would have felt responsible.
[color=red]III.[/color=red] This story is actually comprised of Parts A and B. The people involved in both parts are the same, Part B is actually a continuation of Part A, and they took place about a week apart.
[color=red]Part A:[/color=red] My job was Director of Employee Benefits for a Fortune 500 company. My boss, the head of HR, could not attend a meeting with the CFO and the CEO to discuss employee contributions to the medical plan for the upcoming year. Our benefits consultant (a very nice fellow; let’s call him Bill) was with me in the meeting.
At the end of the meeting, the CFO said to the CEO, “What’s our next meeting about?” and gestured to the conference room next door.
“Oh,” said the CEO, “That’s with our specialist” – referring to the consultant who advised the company on stock-related issues.
“Gosh,” said Bill, “I thought we were your specialist.”
“You are,” said the CEO. “You’re our benefits specialist, and VeryHappy is our honey.”
I stuttered, “VeryHappy is our what?” because I couldn’t believe I had heard him correctly. He repeated it, and Bill and I just stared at each other with wide eyes.
That afternoon, I went into the CEO’s office and asked him what he meant by the statement. He asked if the comment had bothered me, and I said it had. I have advanced degrees, I’ve always conducted myself professionally, and I didn’t think his comment was appropriate. He became obviously embarrassed.
[color=red]Part B.[/color=red] Fast forward about a week. The CEO came into my office and said, “Boy, are you sensitive!”
I reiterated that I did my best to be completely professional at work and I didn’t think his comment was appropriate. He then said, “Jeez, you’re tough! I’m going to start calling you Butch or something!”
I responded, “The name is VeryHappy, Mr. CEO. Simple name, just four letters.” He mumbled something and left.
I’ve told this story to probably 50 people, and no one can believe that this happened – in 2008. This isn’t some story from the Dark Ages.
I have more, but that’s enough for now.