A Very Private Message, Part One
I’m going to tell you something that only my closest family members know: my husband, my father, and my mother. Since my father went to Heaven a few years ago, only two living souls know this part of my history.
I’ve never shared these very private things with YOU, dear reader, because when we’ve met for coaching or training, I’ve always made it all about you, not me. YOU are my masterpiece in the making—a beautiful work of art that you and I are making together.
So why, after keeping this under wraps for so many years, am I coming out with it now? It’s long so I’ll have to break it up, but I want to give you the full story because my coach recently told me that it’s important to you that I share my ‘come from’ or my ‘origin story.’ And now you’re wondering why it’s important to YOU?
It’s so that you will know WHY I’m so passionate about what I do. If we’ve spent even a small amount of time together, you know that ‘passionate’ isn’t too strong a word. The fact is, I’m driven to help women get promoted, make more money, and negotiate for more flexibility in their jobs. In a word, how to succeed.
And here’s why:
I loved my job. I didn’t care that it was a “step down” from assistant branch manager to become administrative assistant to the VP of Marketing at Corporate. He had hand-picked me and given me complete autonomy to implement my ideas. My goal was to make this privately-owned bank in our mid-sized city into a fierce competitor with the biggest brands in Banking. I loved the challenge. I loved the opportunity to be creative. I loved going to work every day to flesh out my new initiative.
Until I didn’t.
As the VP of Marketing and I began to work closely on the project, I put two and two together and figured out why ALL his previous assistants had springboarded into promotions and higher-paying positions. They had ALL been blonde, young, and built—which described me at the time–and this man had trouble keeping his hands to himself.
Of course, it was always “accidental.” A breast brush here, a bottom swipe there, even when there was plenty of room to get around. It was never overt enough to confront him over; doing so would have made ME appear to be one with the dirty mind.
So I did my best to avoid him. I went from wearing fitted suits to flowy dresses with loose jackets, and I swapped my contact lenses for glasses. Then, in an act that totally befuddled my hairdresser, I had her dye my natural blonde hair a rich, warm brown.
The accidental touching continued. I began to get sick to my stomach on Sunday afternoon from dreading to face him Monday morning. My husband suggested I quit but where could I find a job I truly loved? Besides, I knew that as soon as I was promoted, I would have my own office and be literally and physically out of my boss’ reach. And with the wild success of my marketing project, that promotion was in the bag.
Now, at last, it was time for my official performance review with the VP of HR.
(To be Continued . . .)
