I Vant To Be Left Alone

Due, at least in part, to the ever-dwindling numbers in our office, I've become a magnet for office problems. Well, this has actually been going on for some time, but it appears to be getting worse. As I'm now one of the few remaining "old-timers" (at just over 4 years with the firm), I must appear to be Yoda-like in my power.

I mentioned, some time back, that my work area is at the very back of the studio of Rupert & McElroy's office. I like working back here by myself. My job duties are such that I don't have to have a great deal of involvement from the rest of the staff and the privacy this location affords me has a substantial number of benefits.

Given that I have zero respect for architects, I prefer not to work around them whenever I can avoid it. I can respect their artistic talent. Honestly, I can. But, it's simply impossible for me to put up with their arrogance when it comes to the integrity of their work. I'm sorry, but they are human, just like everyone else, and just as capable of making errors. When you bring something to their attention ("Look, Steve, it's a nice looking roof detail, but it's just can't be built in the basement."), they just turn their noses up at you as if you were a cur ("You are construction. You are beneath us and we don't answer to you.").

I'm not one to generalize (except when it comes to republicans), but in my lengthy experience with them, it is the rule. There have been a few notable architects (primarily women, and maybe that means something, too), who have been willing to take another look at their design, when construction simply could not make their dream (as they have drawn it) a reality.

You may trust, as well, that the architects in my office are intimately familiar with my philosophy. They know I will pull their jobs through, but I will remind them, every step of the way, of all the avoidable problems that they (and their architectural ilk) should have caught before it got as far as it did.

Consequently, given my curmudgeonly attitude, and my proximity, I'm usually not in the gossip loop. Which works swell for me. I just want to get my work done and go home. Sometimes, that works better than others.

We have a couple of architectural interns working for us right now. They are primarily drafting, but do have a few other duties from time to time. They seem to be relatively nice kids, but, well, they aspire to be architects, so they must be damaged somehow. Let's call the interns Rauol and Lexus. Raoul is a very handsome, very quiet and unassuming young man of latin descent. He is EXTREMELY religious.

Lexus is a twenty-five year old black woman, who has some issues with the rest of the architectural staff. I suppose because she knows how I feel about them, she likes to confide in me. I really would rather she didn't. I don't want to be in the middle of it, but also, I don't like being the person advising her on employment issues.

So, when Lexus came to me the other day, and advised me that she was being racially harrassed, I wanted to crawl under my desk and pretend she wasn't there.

I can't SEE you!!!!

"Tammy, I'm not sure how to handle this situation and could really use your help." Oh, they suck you in like this every time. Lexus has come to me before about issues with her car insurance company, dating questions, laundry issues, unusual rashes, all kinds of things. I didn't realize we were doing "work stuff". So, foolish me, I said, "Sure, what's up?" That's when she proceeded to tell me about all the problems she was having with her immediate supervisor...one of the architects.

She has more education than he does, and therefore, believes that she shouldn't be taking direction from him. His twenty years of experience in the business is not, in her eyes, a trade off for her degree. Oh, brother, these people get on my nerves. The petty bullshit just drives me nuts.

Better. He made some kind of comment to her and used the term "fried chicken" and she wants some guidance on how she should handle his racial remark. Now, she didn't share the entire conversation they'd had. So, I'm not sure if he said, "Hey, Lexus, you fried chicken-eatin' darkie, get that drafting done and quit lazing about like a house niggah." or if he said, "Hey, Lexus, I'm hungry for some fried chicken for lunch today. I hear this place down the block makes good slaw, too. Would you like to grab a bite with me?" So, I don't know if he intended it to be a racial slur, or if she may have taken it out of context. And most important of all...It's Not My Place To Respond To This Kind Of Stuff!!!

So, I double-checked to make sure no one had stuck an NAACP sign over my desk (and they hadn't) and I referred her to the vice president (who also manages employment issues) and told her that if she was having any type of problem, she should bring it up to him. And then I didn't say to her that they don't pay me enough around here to deal with the crap I'm dealing with, let alone THIS crap. But, I was thinking it. Big time.

Two days later, someone else made a "watermelon" remark to her. What does she do? She comes back to report it to me. Again, I didn't witness the incident or hear the conversation, so I have no idea about context, and, once again, I route her to the vice-president.

This is the south. And there are a lot of stupid men working in this office. But most of them are the sensitive artist types, and usually they aren't the kind to make such politically incorrect statements. But, you hate to give some men more credit than they should have. You know?

I don't know if just saying 'watermelon' or 'fried chicken' to a person of color is a racial slur. Is it? I certainly try to be careful not to hurt someone's feelings (unless they are a contractor or an architect, but even then I keep strictly to professional talents and not appearance). Maybe I'm not as good at that as I thought. Now, I haven't said 'watermelon' or 'fried chicken' or 'Colt 45 malt liquor' or 'baby daddy' or any of that shit to Lexus. I try not to talk to her much at all, if I can help it. She's not very bright, and certainly not very wise, plus she's an training to be an architect. Ugh! But, with so few women in this office, I guess she feels comfortable with me. It probably doesn't hurt that I'm so damned motherly, either!

So, I'm sitting back here in No Man's Land, kicking all the personnel problems back to whence they've come, trying to do the job they don't pay me enough to do and just get by until I win the lottery (or make it to quitting time, whichever comes first on a daily basis). And wondering if I've said anything racially offensive to her, too.

I should hang a photo of Greta Garbo over my desk. Instead of the sign I really do have over my desk...