Quietly Judging You

Back on December 18, I had my annual mammogram. On January 22, I got a phone call from my doctor. She said I needed a follow up mammogram because there was something that was found on the first one.  I wound up wondering how bad it was for five whole days until my next appointment when I got to see the original image that they were concerned about.

The image was of my left breast, and you could very definitely see these white bean shapes up near … basically my arm pit. This is totally not what I expected. They said my mammogram had an anomaly and I just assumed it was in my breast. I even did a breast self exams all weekend (and found nothing of course.)

Well after all that second batch of squishing AND an ultrasound “just to be sure,” they let me go with a clean bill of health.

As I left I thought about how problematic and stressful the whoe process is once a year. I know they can use other techniques for diagnosis (MRIs, and Ultrasounds) which seem to the uninformed as more accurate, and a lot less uncomfortable. I knew it’s a cost “savings” measure on the part of the insurance companies – i.e. what they’ll pay.

Then I put it out of my mind. Until today.

I apparently OWE $281.21 …and probably counting (That’s just the radiology/lab cost, not the cost for the MDs to read the darn thing – I think I paid an extra $57 or so for that).  The insurance  covered a whopping $137.52 of the bill. I’m one of the lucky ones that can cover this. What if I couldn’t? Would I just NOT have procedure done and wonder if I’m a ticking time bomb until I develop cancer? And it wasn’t even my “fault” – nothing was wrong with my body at the time of the original mammogram, the technician just didn’t do her job correctly the first time.

It’s no wonder that people in this country are broke… we have to keep paying for other people’s mistakes and stingy insurance companies.

I ran in the Phoenix Rock and Roll 1/2 marathon on Sunday 1/14. This race starts in downtown Phoenix and immediately goes through a not-so-great section of town, filled with many street people on a regular day. Yesterday it was filled with runners, joggers, walkers and bystanders.

And apparently proselytizers.

Yes that’s right. “TURN TO JESUS YOU ARE HEADED FOR HELL”

There were at least three of these signs being held up along the first mile of the 1/2 marathon route. I don’t know about the marathon route which took a different path.

My comment to my running mates was “I don’t care if people believe in god/religion or not, but keep it to yourself,” to which I received a nod of affirmation.

But in the 12.1 miles I had remaining of my run, I had a bit of time to think about all this. Humans, for the most part, do need/crave/seek out community of some form or another. It rankles me to admit it, but I’m a joiner. I’ve joined or created a bunch of groups in my life time: the Brownies, my geek club in high school, groups of friends in email, groups of women who had kids all around the same time (in person and in email), groups in school (like women in computer science), groups of exercisers (like my running, biking or triathalon training groups), and even a secular Jewish group.

But do I proselytize? Am I as bad as they are? If I enjoy a group, don’t I want my friends to enjoy the group with me? I’ve gotten a couple of friends to join my biking and running groups. I’ve even tried to get a few friends and my sister to be involved in my secular Jewish group. Am I doing what I hate? Proselytizing?

I thought about it some more (2 hours and 16 minutes of a run gives you a long time to think) and I realized there is a difference. First of all, I don’t use a “negative” campaign, in other words, I don’t believe my friends are going to hell if they don’t run with me. Secondly, I don’t push it. If I tell them about something I like doing, if they want to join, great, if not, I’m not going to berate them until they do. (Although at the time I saw the signs, I thought about stopping my run, going over to them and yelling at the offending sign holders to bug off, but I realized a) that was probably from all the endorphins/adrenaline/testosterone coursing through my veins b) it wouldn’t change their mind and it would probably start a fight and c) I’m really a chicken when it comes to conflict like that).

My judgment? Shove your signs up your collective proselytizing asses and get off my race course.

I have a number of interests: one is being a pretty geeky person (always loved math and science and I have a graduate degree in computer science), but I also love to do anything creative with my hands (pottery, stained glass, wood working, gardening, wire work, jewelry, knitting, you name it, I’ll try it). Lately I’ve been trying my hand at drawing (something I never considered myself good at) and graphic design on the computer. This spring I worked on a jersey for our cycling group which came out really well. Last week I dropped everything else I should have been doing and created a logo for a long sleeved shirt for my running group.

Considering I did the software contract last month and that I’ve been working on this shirt, my hubby asked me an interesting question the other day: Which would I rather be known for – my software or my art.

I have been thinking about thinking about this question ever since he asked. My initial reaction was that I was torn: I love being one of the few women in computer science – I love being different and standing out, but I also love being able to make a computer bend to my will 🙂 On the other hand, I love working on art and creating things that people can see and touch. I really couldn’t say that I wanted to be known for one or the other.

Two days ago, when I finished the logo for the running shirt, I got a lot of positive comments about what I had done. I was really proud of what I had created (especially since I drew a cat free-hand and it actually looked like a cat!). But the positive comments and accolades from other people made me feel especially good.

So I wondered, why don’t I feel that good when I’m being a software engineer?

That’s when it hit me: writing code, even really elegant code, doesn’t give you the same amount of accolades as creating a really nice piece of art. It’s just expected. First off, you never get accolades for just a small chunk of code, you have to work for a long time to create something that external people can “see” and give you feedback on. And feedback they give, and it’s mostly negative comments (“this could be better”, and “you should try that”) – it’s like computer scientists feel like they have to make some kind of negative comment or suggestion to be seen as smart. The only time you get feedback is during a performance review – and even that is over your cumulative performance, not a week’s worth of work.

But there’s more to it than that. My mom pointed out when I wrote my first post that software development is a very arrogant, egoistical field filled with a lot of smart, type A people. If you’re not good, you’re not worthy of being noticed. You’re expected just to be good period. The way you get positive feedback is if you get promoted, raises or if people are knocking down your door to hire you even though you’ve had a job with the same company for 9 years. There was a time when I did get those things – prior to my taking time off, but now I don’t. In fact in order to get back to that place (and I know I could), I would have to take a step back, re-prove myself and go back to being that type A, arrogant, smart person I know lays somewhat dormant inside me. And once I would do that, I’d get my external validation – I’d get the raises, promotions and job offers. With art, it’s easier for me to throw myself into a project for say a week, get something good and visual done, get my positive validation, and move on to the next thing. All without having to be seriously type A. It feels good. So if I take all that into consideration, it seems clear: I want to be known for my artwork.

So now the new question for myself is this: why do I need external validation for my work? Would my answer change if I was more self assured that I don’t need the positive affirmation from my peers or the general public?

Now that I have to think about…

Why is the reaction to a cross dresser different if the person is male or female?

Last night I attended two parties dressed at a member of the Blue Man Group. Obviously I had the blue face and even blue hands, and I was wearing one of my husband’s black shirts and a pair of black leggings.

I met a guy at the second party who was dressed quite nicely as a woman. I mean he actually looked good as woman, his figure carried that dress very nicely, though he does have short hair, the chiseled face, and very muscular arms. In “persona” he was “Stephanie” – I have to admit I’m blanking on his real name. In persona he really hammed up the feminine, which seemed perfectly in character considering his attire.

When I walked into the room I caught a few people staring at me out of the corner of my eye, but I was expecting that given the costume and the reaction from the last party. The conversation between these staring folks started because one guy in the group admitted he was “creeped out” by “Stephanie.” When his wife asked him if he was creeped out because Stephanie was in drag, the guy said “No, he’s just creepy.” She apparently probed further and asked about me, standing at that moment right next to “Stephanie.” The guy said “Why should I be freaked out by someone dressed as a Blue Man?” The wife said “Because she’s not a man, she’s a woman.”

I heard this story later from the guy in question after I told him I found it funny that other people at the party didn’t know I was a woman until I spoke. Then he told me in the context of admitting that he didn’t realize I was a woman at first either.

But his story got me thinking: Why is it more socially acceptable for a woman to dress like a man than the other way around? Why do I stare at the guy I see in my neighborhood from time to time wearing a full length black skirt, shirt and clod hopper shoes? He seems perfectly comfortable walking around like that – it’s just an every day thing for him, and counter intuitively, it does not seem to feminize him at all. Yet I stare. It’s not something you usually see, but why the heck not? What is “wrong” with it? Intellectually I know there is nothing “wrong” with it, yet I stare. Just like “Stephanie” and I were stared at last night.

Years ago I was vacationing when I met a woman who’s husband was a lawyer and they were child free by choice. As in typical small talk with a stranger, I asked her “What do you do?” What shocked me next wasn’t what she did or didn’t “do” – it was her reaction to the question! She became defensive and proceeded to tell me all of the things that kept her (I don’t count the 6 weeks I took off after the birth of my first son, that’s just a leave of absence very very busy. It was at that moment that I changed my small talk question to “What keeps you busy?” Yet even though I knew enough to change my question, I didn’t really understand why she had gotten so defensive about what I had asked. Until recently.I have had jobs of various kinds since I was … well as soon as I could babysit. When I was 12, I would sit for a friend’s baby for 20 minutes a few times a week the mom went to pick up her husband at the train station. At 14 I had a regular gig babysitting the Rabbi’s 2 year old daughter. After that I had a number of regular jobs: working as a dishwasher, programming a doctor’s computer, etc. I worked straight through high school, college and graduate school, except for three times:

• my first semester in college, when my folks suggested I not work until I get used to the workload,
• for 16 months when my second child was born, and
• for 2 1/2 years when my husband was commuting to another state every week for work.

The first two “temporary retirements” were pretty easy, I felt like I had a reason for taking time off and I knew they would be relatively short lived.

The third break from the working world was a bit more complicated. I was leaving a job just at the point where my career was taking off: I was managing people and projects, setting designs in motion and I felt like I was making a difference. However, I did have a good set of reasons for leaving the job that September (one of which was my husband’s commute), and had every intention of going back to work once the family situation settled out by that next January. Then I thought I’d go back to work in March. April. Then I told myself June, then September…. this kept going on for 2 years.

Although I was very busy with family and other volunteer work, I didn’t feel defensive when people asked me “What do you do?” It was a very easy answer: “My husband is out of town half of each week and commuting and working an 8 hour day wouldn’t work out. Besides someone has to be home to take care of everything else.” People were understanding of that answer, and, in my own head, I knew I’d go back to work as soon as the commuting stopped.

Well the commuting stopped over 12 months ago. So I started to look for a job. Optimally I wanted a job where I could pick up in my career where I left off. Well that turned out to be difficult to find. Companies aren’t so keen to hire part time managers (and part time was still easier on the family given my husbands 50-60 hour weeks). So I resigned myself to the fact that I’d have to find a job as a Software Engineer – a step back in my mind, but maybe I had to go back to go forward.

Well that turned out to be difficult as well. It’s been 2 years since I left the computer world AND because I had risen to management, I hadn’t done a significant amount of programming 2 years prior to that.

In the meanwhile, I’d go to parties with people from my husband’s work, or from grad school who hadn’t seen me in a while and, as with most parties where there is small talk, I’d get the question “What do you do?” I finally came up with a response that would at least get a “OHHH interesting, tell me more” response instead of the pathetic “oh, how… um… interesting” pity response. When I would explain that I’m at home taking care of the kids, the tables were turned and it was the person asking who would feel a bit defensive.

Still I did manage to find many things to occupy my time. I helped friends with small businesses with their computer problems. My friends were very happy, but the people asking “what do you do” didn’t seem to find that interesting enough. I volunteered in my younger son’s school, which got some interest because it is very generous of me to spend my time in that way, but then the person asking would move away from the conversation. I worked very hard for a month and came up with enough jewelry to sell at a show. That would placate some of the small-talkers because I could talk about the artwork for quite some time and show them my cool business card. I worked as a teacher for a secular Jewish Sunday school, then volunteered and worked on their curriculum over the summer, both answers received some positive responses, but still in the work world, it didn’t seem to be “enough.”

Recently, 3 years after I left the work world, I interviewed at a company I thought my knowledge would be extremely helpful. They did too – but they didn’t want a manager (which again I was hoping for), they wanted a full time software development engineer. I still couldn’t commit to the full time, so we tabled the discussion. I was disappointed in that I felt that if I had been a perfect fit, they would have made accommodations for me. Friends and family were all disappointed for me as well, but I moved on rather quickly. About a month later, I was hired rather suddenly, part time, on contract for this same company. The deal was a good one, yet it was with the understanding that it could change rather suddenly (they’re on a tight budget and if they hired full time folks, they’d have to cut back or cancel the contract). Still, I was pretty happy! I felt wanted, like my skills were going to be used, my PhD not wasted and I was going to be “useful.” Friends and family were appropriately happy for me.

What surprised me were the acquaintances, the people at social gatherings asking “what do you do?” I would tell them and It was as if suddenly, I meant something again. I was worthy of having a conversation with at a party. I told them I was working for this company, and suddenly they wanted to know more! What was odd to me was MY reaction: I would get almost embarrassed and not say much, and divert the subject away from my job. Yet I couldn’t help but feel important again, it was a nice feeling, some positive attention for being a “useful member of society.”

Until Wednesday. Three weeks after I started. That’s when I found out that they’re going to put the contract on hold because they just hired one person.

My first thought was “well, no problem, this was the understanding.” My second thought was “If I had done an extraordinary amount of work in those three weeks, maybe they’d keep me on anyway, they’d make accommodations instead of looking for other people.” My third thought was “It’s because I started to feel comfortable and brought in my own coffee mug.” But even with my self deprecation, I was ok with their decision and ok to move on. So I let everyone know I was going to be done with the contract as of Monday. What took me by surprise was my friends and family “consoling” me for my lost job. “I’m sorry,” “there will be other ones,” and “this obviously wasn’t the perfect job for you,” etc.

That’s what took me by surprise: the sense that I should be sad, sorry, or bummed about losing a job – a good job with a lousy commute mind you. I can only imagine what the party people are going to think. I suspect I’ll be going back into the ranks of those people – you know the ones who don’t “work” – they don’t “do” anything.

What they don’t know is how busy I’ll be.