By Don Willmot
Even though she was 40 years old, she had stoically remained the person she thought she was.
Always sweet, ever caring, supporting others, always smiling, had consistently turned the other cheek in the interest of “the Team.” Never heard to complain or query a dubious instruction, always performing, but always alone.
The Team had blossomed, the Team Leader had received all the accolades, and given out none.
Her strategic insights and tactical logic to roll out clear actions supporting the Strategies and structures were ridiculed, although he would quietly change her words and claim the ideas as his own.
“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about” they muttered, openly, behind her back. Increasingly, she started to believe them. Every day, she would work way past the daily office hours, in early, out late, never stopping with others for their smoke break, or a lunch break in the gardens outside.
Going home to an empty house, with only the three cats for company, she often cried, lonely and without anyone to talk to about her day. An empty and barren world. She ate and moped, weight settled increasingly on her, the kilograms making her work clothes look like tents. Her own pride and self-love deserted her.
Depression had blunted her situational awareness. Always cloudy, never sunshine.
One day, as she reversed out of the parking bay at her supermarket, her day was suddenly shattered when she backed straight into another vehicle. Fighting the reflex tears, she got out and walked towards the other driver,. He was already there, looking at the damage. A big man.
Frowning, he looked at her, the tears already on her cheeks. He’d been around the block of life and immediately closed the gap between them, saying, “are you ok?.”
“I … I …I’m so sorry” she stammered.
“Wow, stop, it’s only a small bump. I can easily fix mine … and yours too … if I may?,” he calmly said.
“But, but it’s my fault.
“Well, not really just yours. I was too close in passing the rear of your vehicle.”
Gently, he said, “We’re blocking traffic, why don’t you pull back into your bay, I’ll park too and we can exchange contact details at the coffee shop behind you”.
After hesitating, she agreed, not sure if she could trust this stranger. And so they talked … and talked … and talked. She wasn’t even interested in her normal chocolate cake and cream! He was the intelligent, but worldly, practical, and experienced type. She was the opposite, highly intelligent, forward looking in her mind, but not streetwise.
And quickly, a month later, they were a couple. “Married, but not yet Churched,” friends would say.
So the metamorphosis occurred, with their discussions around life, work, and relationships.
Quickly, with his guidance, streetwise advice and instilling of a clarity of mind, of her self-worth and a return to self-love, underpinned by the love of a partner, she changed. Intelligence became strength.
Sweetness became power.
The day of reckoning finally came at her work. After more condescending comments, she stood up. “Right, I now have something to say. No more will I be spoken to in this way. No more will I listen to such hurtful comments. I’m the one you each come to for help.”
After listing pertinent examples, proving, clearly, her support of each member of the Team, a silence slowly came over those present.
“To conclude, more of this treatment and I’ll see you in court, and, FYI, my Honours was in Labour Law.”
Reality was both sudden and awkward. Her Manager, having kept silent in shock, slammed the table and stormed out. First one lady, and then a male colleague, put their hand up, saying “I’m sorry, I don’t think we realised what we were doing. Please forgive us.”
Now she had the strength and confidence to accept. “Let’s move forward, together.” Smiles arrived.
It took another two weeks. By then the General Manager became aware of what had happened. Her Manager was transferred out and failed there too.
Soon, she was slim and trim, frankly, beautiful, the envy of her colleagues, but with their admiration.
Now, noticed as “the hot blonde with brains,” she was accelerated into the Strategy Team leadership role. Glass ceilings were only made so they could be shattered.
The Child had run away, the strong woman had arrived.
Carindale Writers Group 