A view from the sky tram in Jasper on a family holiday
Today is the day, my first day on the job. I am excited and my supervisor seems to look forward to my working here. He shows me my work space and outlines my duties. The clerical work seems simple enough. I am to fill out bills of lading for the truckers who come to load and transport pipe. I won’t actually interact with the drivers, as they pick up their paperwork in the adjacent room. Formalities out of the way, I get down to work. “Ssshh. Watch your language. There is a lady next door.” “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know.” I can hear the conversations between the truckers and the workers next door as the adjacent room is perpendicular to ours and both doors are kept open to facilitate the working environment. Again and again as new truckers come in, if their language deteriorates, they are given the same advice. Thankfully, they respond well. This is a new experience for me. I have been hired for two to four months, and I am the only lady in the mill. I guess I qualify as a lady, and not a girl, at the ripe old age of thirty-one and a half, besides being married with two children. There are women in the main office, but that is at the other end of the huge yard. When I was interviewed for the job, they told me they want to place a female in the mill as they believe it will create an influence that will clean up the language and the general atmosphere. It seems a worthy challenge and I feel the responsibility already, especially since the twenty-three-year-old at the desk next to mine has a most vile-looking girly calendar on the wall above his desk. All the other walls are empty. The staff have been previously told that a lady is coming and to clean up their area of all pin ups and anything else inappropriate. Obviously he isn’t about to comply. Judging from the very distasteful picture, I wonder if he had put up something worse than the one he originally had. After all, who is this old lady coming in to dictate what he can or can't do? The supervisor says nothing, just grins. It is up to me. Head on, my challenge begins. I am not about to rush in until I am ready and know what I am going to do. I am pleasant to him and spend the day working with my head down. Several fellows, who have errands in our office, stop to introduce themselves and welcome me. No one comments on the calendar, just on the empty walls. It is like it doesn’t exist, but I am very aware it is there and so I am sure is my challenger. I think of a story I once heard of how when a new cow is introduced into a herd, she spends the first few days staying around the edges before she moves into the middle. The message for me is, “I am new here. Tread carefully”. By closing time at three-thirty, I am ready. The room is almost empty. This is good as I don't want to embarrass him in front of others. “*****”. I call his name softly with a question in my voice. “Yes”, he replies somewhat hesitantly. “Is there a reason that you have to have that calendar up there?” He bristles at the phrase, “have to have”. “Yes”, he answers strongly. “I need it for the date. I have to type it on the forms.” “Oh, is that all? Of course! I didn’t realize it was that important. I will go right out after work and buy you the best one I can find.” “Never mind,” he responds disgruntedly. I will phone over to the office and have one of the girls send me over a company calendar”. He picks up the phone and makes his order after taking the offending one down. His shoulders relax. “Thank you, *****". It's over. Later that evening, I consider the situation. This time it worked out well. I need to come up with a way to discourage challenges from coming up in the future. Pin ups! That’s the answer. Create my own atmosphere. I arrive half an hour early for work the next day, armed with my atmosphere paraphernalia. One by one, I make a wall arrangement over my desk from clippings collected over the years: a colorful picture of homemade bread, so skillfully set up that you could almost smell it; nine dirty little boys in a bathtub with bats, balls and uniforms spilled out over the floor; a cartoon astronaut stepping out onto the moon only to find a Safeway cart. All over the wall in front of me, I plaster engaging images that spell out home and family interspersed with cartoons that invite you to come close and read. I set out the glass vase I brought along with a beautiful carnation. Mission accomplished. I am busy with my work as co-workers start to arrive. “What’s this?” they ask. “Why these are my pin-ups of course”, I innocently reply. They chuckle and come closer to read and comment. All the time I keep on working. Soon the word gets around and a few come from other departments to see what is going on. My supervisor seems to enjoy the humor. One or two people comment on the carnation. The flower lasts about a week and then to my surprise the field workers pick wild flowers and continue to keep the vase refilled. I end up staying six months. It proves to be an enlightening adventure as well as serving my own purpose. You might call it a Win/Win. ..................................... P.S. There must never have been intended to be women working in the mill, as there was only a men’s washroom. I was assigned the First Aid room with its facilities to myself. Things have changed a lot since 1974 when I worked there. P.P.S. Regarding last weeks blog: Hurray! I now have walking poles.
2 Comments
JDT
6/21/2017 02:43:20 pm
Great post!
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Margery
6/21/2017 07:23:13 pm
I love your comments. Keep it up.
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