It’s not OK

This entry is for my colleagues, those dedicated souls who create miracles on a daily basis. The journalists who track down the news, report it and take the heated phone calls when folks don’t want to read– or believe – the truth (or, perhaps, just squelch or influence what’s reported in a daily newspaper). The editors who drill the journalists, challenge them and then stand behind them and their work. The pressmen who keep the print churning. The Web editors who post the stories. The folks who sell ads, place classifieds and, generally, keep the process in motion. It’s a tough job, at any newspaper. And most do it with grace, diligence and dignity. They’re folks who have my admiration.

Don’t know the head count at my – present – employer nowadays, but a year or so ago there were more than 200 people on the rolls. My complaint is with a small percentage of them — like one percent – and a management team that let down women everywhere (especially women journalists) by creating and nurturing an environment that sowed the seeds of harassment —  and allowed it to grow and flourish.

I’m already aggravated with corporations, which treat employees – read: people – as if they are expendable and replaceable objects to be used and then dumped. And it’s everywhere. A dear friend who lives in SoCal was stressed when her employer thrusts a three-year, six-figure contract at her. She’s an IT guru and, while she commands a good living, her employer seemed, to her, exceedingly generous. More: The contract insulated her from firing for its duration. It seemed too good to be true. She finally acquiesced, signed it and discovered her employer’s true motive: They expected her to continue managing her department while outsourcing it – unannounced to her charges – to a firm in India. Her boss’ secretary died, from, my friend believes, exhaustion and stress created by a take-it-or-leave-it-you’ll-work-as-much-as-I-demand work culture. The secretary was in her mid 30s, couple of kids and a husband. My friend works some 80 hours a week supporting this company, which looks at employees as bottom-line numbers on a spreadsheet.

It’s rampant. Everywhere. Employment loyalty is lost – and that’s a parallel street headed straight to hell. I don’t know what, if anything, will change that. But I do know what happens to people – good people – when they have to deal with it. I’ve seen it up close. Watched the layoffs. Ranted with others as they wiped away tears of frustration. And felt the hollow stings as emotionally jolting goodbyes punctuated Friday afternoons for some six months.

Again, I don’t know the answers. But what I do know: I feel and felt the pain – and wrote about it – along with my colleagues as we all experienced it. I’ve felt frustrated, angry and powerless. It’s hurt to see so many people hurt and, I believe, maltreated. But somewhere in this, groupthink (for a few) seemed to come to the conclusion that I was part of some sinister corporate plan  or that I was in need of some good, old fashioned rough justice. And the response was to support, and contribute (again, for a couple), to a sexually harassing site which took aim at my female parts.

Forget naming names – at least here. And details will come later, if at all. As I’ve said before, however, I’ll be damned if sexual harassment will control or define me. No one deserves it. No one deserves harassment based on some where-I-live characteristic, such as race, ethnic background, religion, sexual preference or gender, to name a few. Not my friend who endured KKK scribbles at his SoCal workplace and a racially hostile environment (the EEOC stepped in; it was less than 10 years ago), not Tammy Blakey, an airline pilot who endured sexual harassment in both the cockpit and on the Internet, not anyone.

-Christy