Hong Kong, 1997. Katie* and I had an argument over something I can't remember.
Most likely it was about the decrepit printer that jammed every time someone sent a document over five pages long. These were the early days of laser printers. But never the last for workplace tempers frayed by uncooperative equipment.
In hindsight, what I do recall is purely subjective: Katie blocking the entrance of my cubicle so I couldn't leave. At least that's what I thought she was doing. Feeling a familiar, savage rage engulf me, I pushed her in the chest.
At this point of the story, every man I've told it to would breathlessly ask if Katie and I ended up clawing each other's eyes out like wild animals, pulling hair out in massive clumps while kicking and screaming at each other. The prospect of an epic girl-on-girl, Grace-Jones-versus-Xena-on-top-of-the-office-photocopier brawl never fails to fascinate men.
Disappointingly (at least for male listeners), it never got to that point. Shocked and angry, Katie stepped aside. I walked out of the office in a dudgeon.
The next day I was told by my male boss with a grin that I had a temper and that I should apologise to Katie.
When I had the chance I walked up to her and said frostily, "It's unfortunate this happened". I remember smugly marveling at how this disingenuous bafflegab stood in for an apology without the requisite climb down. Katie of course was not impressed and complained that I hadn't really apologised. I stuck to my surly guns. Nothing happened.
By nothing I mean I wasn't sent to the principal's office, censured or penalised. Katie and I pointedly blanked each other everyday which is what girls usually do. When I took off for another job there was an inaudible sigh of relief. Never mind creaky printers: Tiptoeing around feuding colleagues is another tension you can do without.
Which is a pity because whatever good work I did for that company was overshadowed by how I handled that one incident. At least with that set of colleagues, we parted ways with my reputation as a loose cannon and a non-team player firmly in place.
Katie would not be the first person I tangled with at work; there were more to come. What strikes me now that didn't then was how personally I took it when a female colleague was my perceived opponent. And how much vicious I could be in response.
Does this sound familiar to female readers out there? A male colleague crosses your path, discredits or thwarts you. You count to 10 and say this is how the business world works. You recite the old chestnut that if you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. You rationalise it, go to a yoga class or get a drink. You get on with life. But if it's a woman, whoa. Now that's betrayal. Cue wounded feelings, obsessing at night and fantasies of revenge.
I'm not quite sure how my own particular blinkers developed. Maybe it's because in the back of my head, all girls were taught to play nice. And that the sisterhood looks out for each other. That it's okay for men not to play fair -- hey, they're guys -- but women are held to a code of conduct that, when broken, is absolutely unconscionable.
If anything, this bias held me back. If you asked me before who I'd rather work for, I'd always choose a man over a woman. This despite that fact that there are many very capable female bosses who could've taught me a thing or two.
I turned down job offers from companies that I thought had a very high female-to-male ratio, thinking that gossip, cattiness and jealousy would bring us all down. (And with that statement, Avon won't be hiring me anytime now.)
I avoided working with female colleagues who I labeled incompatible with my own style, despite their being competent, brilliant and visionary.
Not only were the fatwas I declared on female colleagues who crossed me spectacularly irrational, they deprived me of future opportunities. Did I mention that Katie and I had worked in another office before that feud? And that she had not only found me this opening in 1997, but had negotiated on my behalf for a better job title?
The irony should have hit me years ago: I wasn't giving women credit for being the professionals they have been and always could be.
It took some time and managing staff myself to learn that being an asshole is not gender-specific. How you react can be, unless you practice self-awareness. From my observation, women are more inclined to stew. Men, on the other hand, are at ease beating each other up in the office then sailing off that night for a drink. The next day they'll merrily go back to work and beat each other up again.
The difference taught me to set expectations and the tone for better work relationships. I've found that agreeing up front that there will be disagreements, but that I'm committed to working with the other person to resolve them, helps enormously. No matter how much our points of view diverge, it should never rule out a drink at the end of the day. Or lunch.
I still get the occasional frisson of dislike, even loathing, with certain women. What's been a huge improvement for me is that I recognise it for what it is -- my personal non-preference -- rather than the sole quantification of why I can't possibly work with them. Amazingly it is often at this point that the tables are turned: I now find that not only can I work with women I didn't initially take a shine to, but that I end up liking them.
*Not her real name