Entry No. 167

January 16th. Entry No. 167

I'm the token woman on the marketing team. It is easy to spot us. There's one girl in accounting, one in sales, one in human resources, and there's the receptionist. We're stuck on teams of Roberts, Bills, Georges, and Christophers. Our opinions aren't as important as our image. I don't mean that we're all showstoppers, anyone who has seen Margaret knows she could benefit from a haircut and some foundation. I mean the heels, the blouses, and the lipstick. Don't companies look better when they've got women in all departments?

I thought so.

I applied for the position almost a year ago, now. I had a little portfolio of my designs, some experience in advertising, and a college degree. I beat a pink-haired lady, and the receptionist who wanted to work away from the front desk. But Leia has too pretty of a face, too feminine a body, to hide in a cubicle shoved in the corner.

The interview went well. The bosses laughed at my jokes. The girl from HR complimented my blazer. "Chic," she smiled. The guys agreed. They glanced through my portfolio. Bill liked the cards I made back when I studied abroad in Chile. The cards were invitations for el día de los niños, children's day, in the shelter I worked at. I liked the sentiment behind those designs, but they were easily the least impressive graphically. Nobody commented on the rest of my work.

Most of what I do is grunt work. Of course, I haven't even hit my ten-month mark. I'm not against paying my dues. I'll resize the images, recolor, write the email, contact the customer, sure. "Whatever you need, Bill," I smile. "Thanks," he winks. But it became clear that I may as well change my title from "Marketing and Design Specialist" to "Bill's Personal Assistant."

We hired Alexander a couple months later. He was nice, I supposed. But he'd been avoiding me for the last few weeks. Ever since I turned down his offer to take me on a date. It didn't matter that my current partner and I were speaking of marriage. It was too great an insult.

We have a weekly meeting every Tuesday where we discuss the status of the projects we're working on. I gave my typical bland report: I updated the graphic header for the interoffice communication, edited our monthly newsletter issue, and recolored the posters for the pop-art style we were doing.

Alexander, apparently, two months into the company was given lead design for the Xavier project. It was bigger than any project that I'd designed for. I couldn't believe it. Alexander wasn't bad, but his work was always so bland and sterile. There was no life to it, no flair. The Xavier project needed to be colorful with floral elements, and gold accents. Alexander's proposal had intricate blue and green lines intersecting to form different patterns on the posters, logos, and signs. They were a designer landscape, not some office supplies distributor.

Nobody asked what I thought, so I said unprompted, "it doesn't really say landscaping to me."

Bill looked at me sideways. "It's clean and simple, as landscaping ought to be."

I pulled up the photos of their projects they'd wanted us to incorporate. "Clean yes, but none of these are simple." I flipped through pretty koi ponds with pink lilies, palm trees and swimming pools, multi-level yards with tulips and irises, and stone walls with creeping thyme. "Xavier's Landscaping needs something that screams elegance, class, and—"

"We already sent this to Xavier for approval." Alexander cut in.

"I wasn't on the email list."

Bill let out his big signature guffaw, "he must have forgotten to add your email. Well, we all voted for it, and you know how democracy works."

Fancy way to say I didn't matter. I willed my face not to turn red and said, as cooly as I could muster, "just double check that you have all the recipients next time, Alexander."

I could see his scowl and anger bubbling beneath the surface. As if, how dare I correct him, how dare I ask to be a part of the team, how dare I insinuate that he may have made a mistake?

Bill has been hard to work with in his own way, but he deserves some credit. He gives me the easy and the boring projects, but he's nice. He's never chewed me out or needed me to ramp up my performance. My vacation requests were promptly approved, and he remembered to say happy birthday. I didn't mind having him as my supervisor. Robert and Chris don't interact with me much if at all. We speak when necessary and work together cordially.

I believed Alexander and I would have the same relationship. But he was charming at first. It was nice not to be ignored. After I declined to go on a date with him, he was silent. And now, he was cutting me out of the team as much as possible. The team was turning into a boys' club. Alexander was buying the boys beers. Robert was hosting a barbeque for the boys. Chris invited a couple of them to his bachelor parties.

For the first time, I'd been completely excluded from one of our jobs. And the Xavier Project, no less. The group I'd been collecting photos and information about. They didn't even let me proofread the brochure.

Bill was going to buy the team drinks. Alexander volunteered to drive them in his brand-new pickup. His stare meant I was clearly not invited.

The workday dragged on. The remaining six hours of the day felt like twelve. I texted Jason, down to grab some takeout and a box of wine? His response only made me feel worse, I have to work late, Muffin. I'll take you out for a real glass of wine this weekend. I don't know why, but I couldn't stop the tears. I pulled my scarf over my face to disguise them when I climbed on the bus.

I stopped at the store one block from my apartment and ordered the cheapest sub I could find and grabbed a ten-dollar bottle of wine. "It will be me and you, this evening," I whispered to the bottle of wine called Red Oaks. Tonight was certainly a night to dust off the typewriter and add another page to my journal. I only write when my frustration is boiling over.

I pulled the stack of papers out of the box and inserted a fresh sheet into the Typewriter.

"January 16th. Entry No. 167

I'm the token woman on the marketing team..."