Harassment: Hidden, but not forgotten

In January, I started a new position. Along with having to ramp up, I needed to take a series of training courses. Most centered on the company’s systems, employee handbook, cybersecurity, and vendor requirements. Nothing out-of-the-ordinary.

A month into my employment, I was scheduled to take a three-hour course on civil treatment in the workplace. Initially, I thought I’d done something wrong, and was therefore identified as someone who needed help with emotional intelligence.

After all, I’d inadvertently responded to an IT-triggered phishing email on day two. Thinking I hadn’t correctly set up my system when I received an email to validate my credentials, I clicked. Blame it on human behavior.

I was in the same “I did something wrong” mindset when I received the invite for the civil treatment course. Happily, within minutes of the class starting, I was informed I’d been included because I could potentially mentor other consultants.

Sigh of relief.

Twenty minutes into the session, a video was shown of a man who was harassing a female co-worker. The woman asked the man to stop, but he persisted.

It was as if someone had lit a quick match into the recesses of my brain. I blurted out, “He’s harassed other women. This isn’t his first time. He’s too confident that he’ll get away with his behavior.”

My words, like an obnoxious odor, lingered, surprising even me. Then again, I’d tolerated harassment, believing it’d stop after I proved my skills. While the job ended, the damage from being repeatedly demeaned and marginalized stayed with me, hidden until ignited.

Naively believing things would change

The harassment occurred several years ago when I worked for a large, diversified conglomerate as a contractor. My role was coming to an end, so my manager asked her associates if they knew of any openings. A small subsidiary, with less than a dozen employees, needed a marketing manager. I’d been warned that the general manager was a tyrant, but I was convinced my diligence and ability to quickly scramble together successful marketing programs would win him over, and perhaps I’d be offered a full-time role.

I definitely misjudged the situation.

On day one, I should have suspected the situation was hopeless. The previous marketing manager, who’d accepted a role with the parent company, provided less than 60-minutes of on-boarding and refused to provide additional assistance, even though her new cubicle was a few rows over from mine.

I wasn’t overly concerned because the marketing communications manager said she could help me. Unfortunately, she couldn’t help me fast enough. The start of my second week, I was working after nearly everyone had gone home. The general manager came into my cubicle and started yelling at me, asking why I hadn’t set up the monthly meetings with sales representatives and generating their sales reports.

What? I had no idea that was part of my job and finding the necessary metrics in the convoluted corporate-wide database wasn’t a task for the meek. You needed to know the exact accounts, product numbers, and names of the representatives. None of which I knew.

The next day, the marketing communications manager gave me a crash course in pulling the data and producing the necessary pivot tables.

The general manager’s outbursts and daily affronts had just begun, ranging from his saying I chewed too loudly—his cube was next to mine—to laughing at me when I had to lug heavy boxes of demo products that needed to be shipped to vendors. He berated me for the tiniest misstep be it a typo in the draft of a datasheet to being too namby-pamby when dealing with distributors. Screaming at Amazon to sell more of the company’s products wasn’t my bailiwick.

When the subsidiary wasn’t included in the parent company’s annual sales retreat, I worked with the organizer to figure out how to get them exposure. I produced memorable banners that were displayed around the meeting spaces along with mini advertisements that I glued to tongue depressors to be placed in the centerpieces where the attendees would be gathering for meals. I also ordered cool shirts, which were placed in the bags given to attendees.

I’d checked and double-checked everything that was sent to the retreat. It came as a surprise, therefore, when I got an angry call from him, saying I hadn’t sent the right number of items. An hour later, someone found them in a box that had been inadvertently placed under a table.

Apology? No.

When he returned from the retreat, proudly beaming that everyone was talking about the centerpieces, shirts, and banners did he offer a thanks? No.

Five months into my stint, I was told that he was in the midst of hiring a full-time person for the role. I approached him and asked if I was being considered. No. Despite the fact I was meeting and exceeding all expectations, he said he wanted a more junior person. He ended up hiring a man with barely two years’ experience, which he expected me to train.

When I objected, he told me to shut up and do my job or he’d immediately fire me.

Overlooking the obvious

Here’s the amazing part. I was the fifth or sixth woman within the company who’d worked for him and quit because of his horrific behavior. It was known throughout the company that he was a misogynist. The marketing communications manager quit after I’d been there two months. She could no longer tolerate his condescending remarks.

The marketing manager who preceded me confessed she’d also found another job because of his behavior which is why she wanted to steer clear of the entire situation.

I’d told the company I worked for about his behavior. But, they were more interested in retaining their relationship with the company than making waves.

A few months after my tenure with the subsidiary, I was hired by the parent company into a full-time role, which rebuilt my confidence. While I’d occasionally walk by the tyrant’s cube and was tempted to walk in and express my feelings towards the way he treated me, I held my tongue.

One afternoon, someone rushed into my cubicle, saying he’d been marched out of the company. Fired. Finally.

When I left the company, because I was moving, a human resources manager asked if I’d ever return. I said “No,” explaining I’d been harassed for six months and was aware that several women had gone to human resources and had reported his behavior. However, their complaints were evidently “swept under the rug,” further emboldening his tyranny.

She commented that he’d been fired.

“You allowed it to continue. That speaks louder than his eventual firing,” I retorted.  

Harassment, all harassment is damaging. And unfortunately, it can last a lifetime, resurfacing at the most unexpected times.

Thank you to Luis Galvez for his photo on Unsplash