(Translation: The Tears, Part Deux. Sort of like, Hot Shots! Part Deux.)
Previously, in Sophialand ...
Lots of crying, for rather asinine reasons, up until college.
Fast forward to Summer 2001 ...
I began a job at Stuffy Investment Bank, LLP. I wish someone had slapped me really hard and said "Snapoutofit!" a la Cher in Moonstruck before I took that job. The reputation of the firm as very demanding and cold preceded it. They even gave me an exploding offer, which in retrospect I realize should have been a red flag. An exploding offer is one where you basically have to take the job on the spot or they take the deal off the table. No more Man 1? I can't go on trial for Murder 2 ... No! Put the deal back on the table!!
Perhaps I am being too mean. But that's my prerogative (Bobby, not Britney). All the things I had heard were true. The firm was quite impersonal and my life was analagous to an indentured servitude. There was hazing and there were all nighters and situations where I was made to feel this big. I worked really hard - sometimes for people I respected; oftentimes for people I didn't.
I tried to stay strong and show a professional demeanor. But I will not lie to you. I cried on the job many times. It was a response to being yelled at, slighted, or patronized. The NY Times article from before describes some reasons why women may be prone to crying. I agree with many of them. I knew I shouldn't cry and that it made me look really childish and annoying. But I couldn't help it. I tried every trick in the book - biting my lip, deep breaths, Kit Kat bar or two from the vending machine. But there are times where you are so frustrated that tears flow before you can stop them.
I will never forget one day where everything was so bad that I started to cry. And I couldn't stop. I was sitting at my desk, and after a few minutes of tears I started to feel better. But I physically could not stop crying. It was as if the switch had broken. I began to get really worried about being unable to stop crying. It was so bad that my coworker who sat next to me had to lead me outside and take me to lunch just so that people wouldn't see the spectacle.
Now that my life is totally different, I reflect back on that time and think several disjointed thoughts. Primarily, I feel anger. Yes, certain jobs are demanding and people have short fuses and stress levels are sky high. But for goodness sake, it's JUST A JOB. The people I worked with took themselves way too seriously and had such masochistic tendencies that humiliating other people made them feel good. As always, I must caveat that this only applies to certain people I worked with - there were others who were supportive and helpful. I have two conclusions about that time in my life that I have reached. They are:
1) I should not have taken things so personally. I think this is definitely in the top 5 of life's most important lessons. It's never about you. Sometimes people suck. I would have cried less and muttered some expletives more had I been less emotionally involved. Also, I think men have serious advantage over women in this arena. Must be the estrogen or something.
2) People should be nicer. It is a waste of energy and it is poor management to lead with an acidic approach. Ex-post-bad-job-o, I have had many positive work experiences - whether professionally or through community service. And guess what? Positive feedback works! At my second job (a hedge fund), I worked with a lawyer who I can only describe as one of the best and kindest people I've ever met. Whenever I did any analyses for him, he always thanked me and encouraged me. And that made me want to produce really good work for him, and for the firm. It's not brain surgery people.
Were my tears wasted? I don't think so. I do think I was young and uninitiated to the big bad insensitive world. And I know that that world is not limited to finance. I'm sure I'll face my fair share of abuse in medicine as well. But there are some key differences. I'm older and (hopefully) stronger. I realize that one reason I cried so much in finance was because I felt helpless. Deep down I knew that I was working so hard for a field in which I likely had no future. My heart knew I was in the wrong career way before my brain did. Re: medicine, I will face significant stress, but - pardon the cliche - there is a perpetual light at the end of this tunnel.
(Cue: "Wind Beneath My Wings" for sappiness followed by "Bootylicious" for some Grrrl Power, since those are the two themes spilling out excessively from this post. I need to shake the emotional fog. New post to follow immediately after this one...)
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