It's a Man's World

As someone who moves around a lot, I find myself constantly being "new" in my occupation. There are more versions of my resume saved to my ipad than selfies. I keep my cover letter short and non specific, so I can change the date and recipient at a moments notice and ship it out. I have enough uniform shirts from former jobs that I could make a queen-sized quilt for my bed. 

So when I started my current position, as a seasonal parks worker for a local municipality, I knew what to expect. I've heard a lot of it before. During my interview, my now-supervisor asked me what I would do in a specific situation: if you are mowing and come upon a picnic table, soccer goal, or some other relatively heavy, park-dwelling object, what would you do? 

"Probably wait till another coworker came along to help me move it," I told him. "I'm very serious about not lifting more weight than I am capable of moving on my own. I don't want to get hurt."

This was, of course, the right answer, but he then went on to say that he by no means was implying that I was weak (avoid sexual discrimination, check), and in fact added: "You look pretty strong."

I know, I should take that as a compliment, or I should assume he had inferred from my resume packed with extensive landscaping experience that I am able to handle myself, but all I heard was "well, one can clearly see you're no twig". You're right, boss man, I am not petite or skinny, and I hope the whole department knows how lucky they are for that. I have worked with petite girls who wanted to landscape before. You know what happens to them? They quit. 

On my first day, we arrived with our crew of six at a park that needed to be mowed. I hopped out of the truck, lifted a trimmer off the rack, filled it with 2-stroke mixed gasoline, and turned to see my supervisor waiting for me. "So, have you ever used a trimmer before?"

Side-note to all department heads everywhere: it is really important (and a huge time saver) to share the resumes and relevant work experience of new employees with their crew supervisors. It is doubly important if your new employee is a girl in a male-dominated field. By taking the time to mention to my new supervisor that I have been landscaping for eight years, we could have avoided several unnecessary and frankly embarassing moments (for me and my supervisor) over the last two weeks, in which he tried to train me on every piece of mowing equipment, all of which I had previously used.

I certainly am not singling out these particular coworkers as being clueless. This happens at every job I have had. In 2012, I had a supervisor refuse to believe me that I knew how to operate a zero turn lawnmower. I humored him, as I have many, and let him show me how the controls worked. Why not? Nothing to gain by showing off. Plus, eight years of this line of work has taught me a teensy-weensy thing or two about the average male ego. 

And there's also the interpersonal personnel (say that five times fast) challenges to being the new Girl. For the first couple of days, no one will speak to me. Most men in the landscaping/maintenance field have never had a female direct coworker and (as I found out from a supervisor at another job, where my presence was discussed at a meeting on my first day, along with proper warnings and precautions) have been drilled on the wide array of statements and actions that constitute sexual harassment. Here's what I have learned: basically, it's anything. Acknowledge that I am of a different gender in any way, and I can sue the pants off you (but not literally, because that would also be sexual harassment). 

It has taken me years, but I have devised the proper way to ease the tension almost immediately: swear. Cuss like a drunken sailor, preferably one who just found out the beer is all gone. Once the males have determined that it is acceptable to use any color of language in front of me, they relax. Next, I make a joke at someone's expense. This is my favorite part, because I will never get a laugh out of a crowd as huge as the one I get when a group of new acquaintances realizes that yes, the girl is funny. It's a combination of general amusement and overwhelming relief: oh thank god, our work lives are not ruined, we will not be fired for letting a foul word escape our lips, we do not have to stop speaking when she enters the room. This will be okay.

At my first job working with all men, in 2007, it took me almost an entire summer to reach a place where my male coworkers didn't look at me like I was some sort of wily foreign insect with superhuman, job-snatching powers. 8 years later, I can assimilate in a day. Now, if I could just get them to believe that I know what a leafblower is...