Workplace bullies

It was a typical weekday evening - the noise and commotion would rival a marketplace. Each one was bustling with pieces of news they claimed were worth breaking in the biggest of letters. Amid this paranoia was a girl staring at her computer screen and looking around from the corner of her eyes, shaking her head to the office boy's queries about the colour of her tea.

"Meet Ms Sazzy," announced the Editor-in-Chief, standing at one end of the long row of work stations, on November 30, 2013, after the edition went to print. "She's joined us as a sub-editor. I request all of you to welcome her onboard."

Thereafter, the staff went about calling it a day. Most of the men walked up to her shaking hands, introducing themselves and wishing her good luck. A few other women, rushed out smiling at her. Creepy, the team head, got up, bag on her shoulder, tilted her head and gave Sazzy a look, which warranted no further interaction.

The following day, the team leader assigned Sazzy work and barked, "Check your inbox. I need the copy in the next 20mins."

Thus Sazzy began work.

Smiley, a one-month old young trainee, who sat beside her, was the only one who made her feel at ease. She used the washroom, when Smiley walked out. She sipped her tea, when Smiley ordered one for herself. She took a break only if Smiley forced her to. In fact, she waited for Smiley at the reception and spent some time with her getting to know her colleagues before she began work. And on days when Smiley called in sick, Sazzy was a lost lamb.

Smiley, a naive and happy soul, was just testing her fins. A fresh graduate, this was her first job and she was on a 6-month probationary period. She was under the direct supervision of the team leader, who minced no words in reprimanding her. Yet, Smiley, was at all times smiling. For her, each moment at the workplace was an experience, was a lesson well learnt!

Four months later...

Sazzy still had only Smiley as a friend, all others were hi-and-bye colleagues. But, by now, the team head was highly impressed with the respect Sazzy gave her that she invited her for coffee one evening. By the end of the coffee-break, Creepy discovered that their parents hail from the same town, they were of the same caste, they were from the same college, and what more, they shared the same interests. Sazzy's workload decreased and now Creepy wanted her for company to while away her time. So she moved Sazzy closer to her desk.

The eight hours were not sufficient for the new friends...they spoke of their in-laws, their husbands, kids, previous jobs, maids, laundry guy...the newsroom seemed quiet only when one of them was not present.

Sazzy now started coaching Smiley, in order to help her team leader.

Picture Courtesy: MorgueFile

Two months later...

Smiley asked for confirmation and Creepy turned to Sazzy. "What do you think?"

"She's got a long way to go," replied Sazzy and so Smiley's probation was extended for another three months. Thus Sazzy became Smiley's authorised mentor.

Now, Sazzy and Creepy had another topic to discuss - Smiley's language, her dress, her walk, her attitude, her class, her creed...

On the slightest of errors, Sazzy reprimanded her in public, rebuked her and sent mails to the Editor-in-chief, with a copy to Creepy.

Yet Smiley wished her every day and attempted making conversations.

After the extended three months...

The Editor-in-Chief forwarded Smiley a mail - an excel sheet of her errors, including date and time - asking her to provide one good reason why she should be confirmed.

On August 30, 2014, Smiley resigned, without replying to the mail.

She went looking for Creepy and Sazzy, to say goodbye. Sitting pretty in the pantry, they were taken aback on seeing the ever-cheerful Smiley, extend her hand. "I'm leaving. Came to say, goodbye!"

"Why are you leaving!," exclaimed Sazzy.

"I've learnt more than what I came looking for. It's time to move on now," she replied.

"I wish I could help you," Creepy volunteered.

"Thank you. I love helping myself. All the best to you'll," Smiley said now retracting her extended hand.

As she turned to walk, Sazzy, called out, "Don't get me wrong. You are young. You are just embarking on a career. Workplace is different from your university life..."

"I know that," Smiley cut her short.

"This, this is your major problem. Attitude. Shove it off, I say. You have a humongous attitude. Learn to respect seniors!" Sazzy was visibly agitated.

"Bye", said a beaming Smiley and walked out.

PS: Do you know of workplace bullies? Where you a victim of office politics? Share your thoughts...

Dressing for work

Last evening I had to avail the service of my driver to attend a Toastmaster’s meeting. His first words upon me entering the car were, “Mashallah, make-up, aaa!”  As is my wont, I blurted, “So what the heck…” when I heard him ask, “Why don’t you go to work dressed like this?”

If the same point made by many, several times over, warranties your attention, then he deserved my dignified silence.

My mom was the first to say this more than a decade back… “Put on something nice.” My husband has wondered aloud [I’ve lost count]… “You shop like crazy, but when you go to work, it’s the same tattered ones. Why are you collecting all these for?”

A senior acquaintance once sat me down, when I complained that I was over-looked for an internal promotion. “Why do you wear these worn-out jeans to work? And you go in these flats!! Dress smart. When you walk in, people should turn their heads towards you.” I’m yet to figure out the connection between dress and promotion, though.

In my first job [as a CSR at a logistics firm], my colleague, who later became a good friend, had all heads turning towards her each time she walked out of the cubicle. There were rumours of warehouse operators  fined for misplacing and damaging cartons while they ogled at her from atop their cranes. She was always in chiffon, halter-neck & strapless, knee-length dresses accessoried with 5-inch-and-above stilettos and her basic two-piece inner.

Since I left her to join the media industry, I’ve been editing others’ words to keep the wolf off my door. A desk job that requires me to use only my upper compartment. The most I interact is when I ring up reporters - who go out into the world meeting, greeting, collecting stories – to check on facts. Else, I’m tapping away at my keyboard 7 hours a day, 5 days a week, editing and re-writing articles for people to read, ignore, appreciate or criticize, in no particular order.

I’m invisible. So how does it matter, if I’m in my birthday suit earning my living. Journalists are one casual breed!  Also, my workplace is a freezer. My first task every morning is to top myself up in multiple layers of winter clothing even before I log in.



My work station, with three pieces of winter clothing on the chair

Well, I believe in being presentable. But I’m a strict minimalist. Hence, I adorn comfort and decency with a touch of Issey Miyake. I can’t have cat paws on print-outs and stained coffee mugs on my desk. Clutter and dirt stain the brain – whose clarity is the PIN for my ATM.

I salute women who are productive sitting squeezed in hip-ripping skirts, breathing through bosom-gaping tops, balancing atop ladder-like shoes, managing to keep their tresses off their eyes while checking files. Not me!

“That’s dressing smart, mama,” exclaimed my pre-teen daughter.

“I’m not ubiquitous as the furniture, either, else the cleaner would have dusted me,” I said, to which she replied... “Mama, every morning, after you so-call dress-up [with her four fingers curling in air], why don’t you take a selfie and post on FB? When you get yucky comments may be you’ll change your mind.”

I remember my childhood days. Whenever mom made anything special, she would offer the first piece to Ganesh [The Hindu elephant-deity] and only then was the dish open to the family.

Today, Lord Ganesha has rivals in Facebook, Twitter, Instagram…

I wonder how obsessive can people get to post every activity of theirs… post the vegetable before they cut; the food before they eat; the pajama before they pull it up; the child’s first nappy…

Well, I’m happy the way I dress as long as my work speaks louder!

How do you dress for work? Do you ‘dress smart’ ; ‘dress-up’ or ‘dress casual’? I would love to hear from  you.

PS:
You may want to read: The search for my friend ends 

His looks could kill, so did hers! And they did…

As she walked in, she caught the security person waving hurriedly at her. She stepped aside.

A swanky Lexus pulled in.

She looked at her watch. ‘40 minutes more.’ Uncomfortable on being too early to work on the first day, she decided to wait out, admiring the manicured garden.

Through the tinted glass she caught a chiseled chin. Looks young!

Catching a movement inside, she crinkled her brows. Open-collar! She quickly touched her nose looking around.

One shining feet in black and she was all attention. The next landed and she threw caution to the winds. Who knows me here anyway! 

When he pushed the shades up his forehead, she shifted to the left impatient to take a full look. As he flung the coat over his shoulders and strode ahead, her jaws fell.

‘Morning!’ he stated through curled lips. 

‘Mo…r...” he was behind the glass door when she finished ‘…ning’.

Never smelled a man so fresh! 

She pulled out her mobile to Whatsapp, and saw there was a message waiting for her from her friend who was anxious if she had reached the workplace on time.

‘Hey alredy lovin d job. Hunk!!!!! Oove!’ hugs! pray 4me’…

********************

Two minutes later a stream of women walked in. What figures and style! Uh… some shapes, too. 

A group halted beside her. Four women stood absorbing an animated monologue by a chick, who was the only one in smart casuals – a bottle-green dress, caught at the waist that brushed just above her knees. In an off-white jacket and matching shoes, she was pretty. Looks older to me though!

Waiting for the elevator, she caught their attention.

“Are you the newbie,” the talkative asked.

“Yep.”

Hi, I’m so and so….and she grabbed her hand, followed by a volley of questions. By the time, the elevator took them to the 12floor, the group of women learnt everything from her place of birth to her previous jobs, stopping short of her sizes, which she presumed the five mute spectators measured up to the last inch.

The manager’s secretary escorted her to her workstation.

She sat taking in the place. Two among the five women were facing her, while she was sandwiched between the other two. Her new friend was at the opposite cubicle. She smiled, when one of them made an eye contact but she returned to tapping at the keyboard. She attempted the ice-breaker to others, and they were equally aloof.

She WahtsApp-ed, ‘L team sucks. Jus 1 frnd n shs faraway LLL

*******************

Two hours later, the intercom buzzed. The conference room was suffocating in tense silence. She stealthily slipped across and stood beside her new friend, who now adorned a purposeful demeanour. 

“Why are we called here?” she whispered.

After a few minutes. “Who’s gonna to meet us?” she tried again.

“Can you just shut up!” as her new friend hissed, she slipped. In stormed her man!

Those who were sitting, jumped up. Those standing, slumped against the wall as he towered over with a bundle of files in hand. Those teasing grey eyes that lifted her off her feet just a few hours earlier was ugly hawk-like piercing through each one present. She felt his temple pulsate to the rise and fall of the stripped light-blue shirt beneath his shoulders.

He flung the files and thumped the table and the heads fell as if taking the blows on their scalp.

“Bloody hell….what the f***…..’ the obscenities that followed, the tone that echoed, the anger that vibrated… she trembled.

After 7 minutes of tyrannical showdown, he kicked the chair out of his way and headed out. Stopping by the door, he turned to look at her, “Did you meet the HR head?”

She just about managed to shake her head.

“Did you or not?” he thundered and without waiting for her reply instructed his secretary to get her joining report ready and disappeared.

She heard a collective heave and realised she had to breathe in.

Hushed talks followed as the herd returned to their stations, some for smoke breaks. She went looking for the secretary. On not finding her, she headed towards her new friend desperate for some normalcy.

She enquired about the secretary’s  whereabouts and received a cold stare. Gingerly she pulled a chair. “Don’t you have anything better to do? Stalking me since morning…”

********************

She returned to her cubicle. In a courageous effort to appear calm, she took her mobile, when the two woman colleagues beside her pulled over. One stroking her head and the other taking her palm in hers, they said, “Ignore her.”

Meanwhile, the other two women leaned over “Smile girl”, said one. “We are all here for you,” said another.

One said, “Keep away from that hot-fuse. If she speaks to you, simply listen. Don’t react, reply or analyse.”

“You’ll be fine,” hugged the one on her side. “We’ll teach you how to survive here.” 

“Trust us. It’s a good place to work. It’s how you look at things.” 

Look at looks...perceptions!


                                                                                                                     [Pictures: Courtesy MorgueFile]