ONE
SILENCING THE LAMBS
āWILLIAM GLASSER, MD, CHOICE THEORY
āRaise your hand if you were called bossy growing up.ā
This was the first thing Sheryl Sandberg said as she took the stage in front of two hundred women at a female leadership breakfast in Detroit. Her comment wasnāt delivered with the curious tone youād expect from someone genuinely interested in the answer. Rather, it was said with an expectant nod and knowing look, as if she were really saying, āI know you hated being called bossy as much as I did, so raise your freaking hand!ā Which is ironic because she was being kinda bossy about it.
Slumped in the seat next to me, my friend Jackie half-heartedly raised her hand. Knowing for certain sheād never been called bossy a day in her life, I turned to her and rolled my eyes. With a look of confusion, she crouched down low, cupped her hand over her mouth, and whispered, āWhat? What did she even say? I wasnāt listening.ā
Sandberg went on to make the point that women are punished for being assertive at work. They are accused of being bossy or too pushy, whereas men who assert themselves are seen as leaders. As a result, we mute ourselves, lower our ambition, and give men the advantage.
Jackieās chronic lack of assertiveness at work could easily be seen as evidence of Sandbergās point. But it wasnāt, because it was due to something much simpler than social conditioning. Like so many of us, Jackie didnāt care enough about her job to be demanding about it.
After the day of empowering lectures on how to be more like men your best self, Jackie and I went out for margaritas. As we plopped ourselves down on a couple of barstools, I asked her why Sandberg talked about bossiness so much.
āBecause sheās bossy. And she probably gets a lot of shit for it.ā
āI get that, but I donāt know many other women who struggle with that kind of thing. Why do we always talk about it so much at these womenās events?ā
āBecause bossy people are in charge of them.ā
Oh, right.
During countless conversations with my girlfriends over the years, we complained about almost everything. Being ashamed of our bossiness was perhaps #827 on the list. You know what was way higher? Being bullied by senior women who felt threatened by other females. That was something I never heard discussed openly, even though it was such a central challenge for many of us. Just bring up the subject among professional female friends, and the conversation can last until the third glass of wine. (Weāll get to this in more detail laterāthe secret bullying, not the secret alcoholism.) Number 4 on the list: we were already the CEOs of our households and often felt unappreciated for our efforts, so we were ambivalent about seeking promotions; it seemed like more responsibility for even less acknowledgment.
At Google and Facebook, the gender gap was a hot topic, with a lot of involvement from senior leaders. But across their dozens of womenās leadership events over the years, we rarely addressed any of these important issues. Because the events were high-profile, they were coopted by opportunists who sounded more like corporate cheerleaders giving hollow stump speeches than like people who were interested in solving a real problem. Most womenās initiatives devolved into platforms for visibility and a means to advance oneās career rather than serve as real change agents. This is perhaps why, despite my strong feminist leanings, I could never identify with the leaders who took the stage on womenās issues. And I donāt think many other women in the audience did either.
I often wondered what would happen if, instead of the parade of powerful women, a lower-level manager juggling a household, kids, a husband, and a personal life took the mic and said, āRaise your hand if youāre apathetic about your job because itās all politics and bullshit anyway.ā Would the majority of us once again have our hands in the air? Perhaps. We canāt know for sure because nobody ordinary appears onstage, and itās a question no one ever asks.
The lack of authenticity wasnāt isolated to public conversations on female empowerment. It also governed the politics of our individual careers. As I discovered right away, the first rule of being a woman at work is to never tell the truth about all the reasonable feelings and concerns you have about being a woman at work. Iāve always been bad at knowing what I can and canāt say in certain situations, so I learned this painful lesson early and often.
One such time at Google, I had been in the same job for too long and was itching for a new role at the company. I found one I really wanted and quickly scored an interview with the hiring manager, Elizabeth. Since I came highly recommended by mutual colleagues, and she wouldnāt have to spend time training someone new, I figured I was a shoo-in.
Ten minutes into our interview, however, I started to sweat. Cool and confident walking in, I was now fumbling my way through even the softball questions. Elizabeth graduated cum laude from Oxford and had an MBA from Wharton. A former star in the consulting world, sheād trotted the globe telling CEOs how to run their billion-dollar organizations. And all the while, she built a side business that helped fund local charities in New York.
This would have been intimidating enough, but what made it worse was her restless energy, endless fidgeting, and frenetic pace of speech. Her brain processed my answers faster than I could talk. Iād barely eke out a sentence before sheād nod vigorously, raise her hand, and signal me to stop.
āIād say my strengths are in the realm of creativity, since Iāā
āYep. Got it. Makes sense. Okay. Next . . .ā
I sank farther down in my chair with each new question.
āHow do you define advancement or your career goals overall?ā
I gave my standard answer, one Iād given a hundred times before during performance reviews and career planning conversations.
āI donāt really see it as a vertical-type ladder, like most people . . .ā
I paused, giving her the chance to understand my point before I made it. But she was quiet, so I continued.
ā. . . I see it as circles of impact. Contributing more to the business or helping more and more people is my signpost for growth and advancement. Itās more rewarding than a promotion.ā
For the first time since the interview began, Elizabeth sat back and smiled. Obviously, she was impressed with my use of the word signpost.
āMarissa, I really love that. I really doāthatās such a great way to think about it.ā
I felt about five inches taller.
But it didnāt last, and for the remaining questions we went back to our initial dynamic of brilliant prodigy frustrated by bumbling moron. When it ended, I returned to my desk and told my good friend Greg how badly I had blown it. To salvage any remnants of self-respect, I mentioned the one bright spot.
āThere was one thing I said that she actually liked . . .ā I went on to tell him about my answer on career advancement.
āOh my God. You are an idiot. Who says that?ā
I was incredulous.
āWhat do you mean? She loved it! It was the only thing I said that didnāt make her wonder how the hell I got a job here in the first place!ā
Now Greg was incredulous.
āOf course she loved it. It means youāre someone she can throw more and more work on without the bother of having to fight for your promotion. You basically just gave her carte blanche to shit all over you.ā
āOh my God.ā
āSheās gonna hire you. WatchāI guarantee it. Then youāre really screwed.ā
āF*ck.ā
The truth was, I didnāt care about being promoted. The only things that mattered to me were money and compliments. As long as those two things were in ample supply, I was happy. But everyone else seemed to care about promotions so much, I doubted my instincts and figured I was being dumb or naive. Or worse. Maybe I was committing the gravest of female professional sins: doubting my ambition. (Gasp!)
I did get the job on Elizabethās team, and in the years following the spectacular failure of political savvy, I dropped the martyr stuff and tried playing the game on its own terms. I was doing a great job of keeping up the facade and advancing at a decent clip. Everything was going so well that sometimes I even forgot I was acting! My delusional world was a safe, happy place. But like most acts, it eventually ended.
The curtain on my days of deluded ambition closed during a two-year span in which I birthed three children, went through a traumatic divorce, singlehandedly moved the four of us to a new town, and began a new life as a single, working mom.
People say women lean out of their careers when they have kids, so they can spend more time with them, or for financial reasons or because of childcare issues. All are absolutely true. But I also think thereās another reason. With their time squeezed and their energy scarce, women have a dramatically lower tolerance for politics, power games, and office bullshit.
After the birth of my twins (my older son was only two at the time), I tried figuring out how to handle the magnitude of work to do at home without compromising a promotion I was on track to receive and that was the culmination of many years of hard work. I didnāt care about the title change, and I wasnāt thrilled about the added responsibility, but I wanted the salary increase. Now that I was running a day care at home while fulfilling the demands of my day job, I was afraid of losing the raise. In a meeting with my manager, Dana, I asked what Iād need to do to stay on track.
Dana said she was planning to submit my promotion after the next review cycle, and that to get it approved, Iād need to start managing people. The peers on my teamāthe same level as me and all reporting to Danaāeach managed at least five people, whereas I had no direct reports. Iāve always preferred to do work instead of lording over others who do the work, so Iād made the conscious choice to be an individual contributor instead of a manager. But as Dana explained, Googleās policy prevented me from getting a promotion without having direct reports. The fact that I had the highest scores on our team made no difference. It was a hard-and-fast rule that beyond my level, you were required to manage people.
My valiant effort to hold back a fountain of tears lasted precisely no seconds.
āDana, of course I want to be promoted. But I also wanna do work. Managing a team means I wonāt be able to get deep into projects or be creative. And frankly, Iām a single mom of three babies. Iām responsible for enough people at home; I donāt want to be responsible for people at work. I just wanna do work.ā1
It was the only time I was ever direct and honest with a manager about my resistance to being promoted and advancing my career. Although this resistance was likely interpreted as a lack of ambition, it wasnāt. I did have a desire to do interesting work. I wanted to solve problems and make an impact on the business. But managing a team wouldnāt help me do that. My time would be spent managing other peopleās work and creating endless PowerPoints to explain to the higher-ups what it was we did at work all day, since most of them had no clue what was going on in their own departments.
Alas, these werenāt the kinds of things people at Google said out loud, lest they ruin their chances to āsucceed.ā
At Google, if youāre at the same level for too many years without getting promoted, youāre in danger of being put on a path toward the exit door. It doesnāt matter how amazing you are at your job, and how much world-changing work youāre doing. If you h...