Coworker Etiquette

I was looking forward to going to bed early tonight. After all, I’ve been battling a sinus infection for just shy of a week, and as I’m feeling better during the day my nights have fallen prey to the incessant coughing as my lungs try to rid themselves of every last glob of mucus. Tasty, I know. However, I can’t go to bed without ridding this from my chest as well.

There is etiquette to working with others. As I’m feeling the weight of constantly being critiqued, I would think that those who are doing the judging would know this and just leave me be. It leaves me to wonder if anyone ever truly feels that they belong to an organization where they work. I know that I’m the youngest in my office. As a matter of fact, pretty much everyone that I work with is old enough to either be my parent or grandparent. Maybe 2 or 3 people in the entire building that I work in could be considered siblings, and I was the child that mom decided to pop out as a last hurrah before menopause. Still, I don’t need to be babysat and I feel that is exactly what is happening. Every time someone walks past my cubical, I feel like someone is peering over my shoulder. What is she working on? What’s on her computer screen? Why is she not taking a note down or moving her mouse? Why does she have her iPod out? What is she doing holding her cell phone?

And I know that they are tattling to my boss. A few weeks ago, I had to work an outdoor sporting event since the company I work for was a sponsor. It was approved by my boss that we could wear what we were wearing to the game to the office, since we had to be there right after office hours. While he was out at some of the stores in which we manage the marketing for, my coworkers from other departments felt the need to remind me that I was wearing shorts. Gosh- I was unaware that it was nontraditional to wear shorts in a professional setting. The last 2 years that I’ve worked there, I always just felt like wearing dress pants and heels. And it wasn’t even the snide remarks about how short they were or why I was wearing them (“Aren’t you cold?” “Are you a cheerleader today for the game?” “Your manager approved those? Sure he did.”) What bothered me the most was that people actually thought that I didn’t know any better.

Sure, perhaps the shorts were a little on the short side to be wearing to work. On the other hand, I’ve worn them to all other times I’ve worked at one of the sporting events- my manager has seen them. And not to play the ‘You’re Just Jealous’ card, but I will say that the only ones complaining to my boss and HR were of the 40 Plus variety. Yes, they did send numerous emails to my boss asking if he had seen what I was wearing. We laughed later on about how everyone had nothing better to do than gossip about what I was wearing.

By the end of that day, I was at my wits end and starting to get snippy with anyone who dared made eye contact with my choice in clothing. It wasn’t until today, though, that I finally lost my temper. I’ve been volunteering to help out with inventory in the stores that I help manage the marketing efforts for. It’s all automotive, so it involves me being at the dealership-level and working with people that I usually have no face time with whatsoever. It doesn’t bother me that they don’t know who I am or what my role is. It does bother me that when they find out which department I work in, all they can do is point out the negatives. “Who wrote that God-awful song that plays while people are on-hold?” “Ugh, can you guys stop running that one commercial when so-and-so does this-and-that? It’s terrible!” “Why aren’t we advertising on this station? You know, the demographic I think would better suit who we’re trying to sell to.” Marketing is subjective. Everyone is an expert in it.

Most of the time I just smile, nod, sit back and think to myself that some people just have no tact. “Hi, what’s your name? Oh, you work in marketing? You’re ideas suck! It must really blow to be you!”

I don’t meet these people and say, “God, your sales numbers were really low this month! Why can’t you guys sell more? It can’t possibly be that hard- I mean, even I could do it!” All the while I just sit there and take their expert opinions, and all I can do in the end is try to explain to them that a lot of what they are complaining about is either preaching to the choir or that they are preaching to the wrong person. I don’t call the shots on anything- the owner of the company does. I’d personally love to see them tell all of this to the man who signs their paychecks.

Maybe it was the sinus infection wearing my mental capabilities thin, or maybe it was that I’m a day or two from menstruation, but in an obnoxiously sarcastic voice I said, “You know, it really feels great to come from the office and be told that I fucking suck at my job!”

Loudly.

Perhaps too loudly.

And people stared and jaws hung and they stammered, “Well, no, that’s not what I meant…” I think I nearly gave one of the older women a heart attack. For a split second I felt a wave not of relief but of embarrassment. I entertained the thought of apologizing. I knew that this was going to make great fodder for the gossip already going around about me. Perhaps it would get to my boss and I’d have a stern talking to about being professional amongst others and setting a good example. The truth hurts, and it cuts the person hearing it just as much as the person calling it out. Now as I look back, I feel that it came out because it was supposed to.

Maybe that’s what we all needed to hear.