Bitchin’
A Response to the Tuesday Quotable
I’d like you to think back on all the times you’ve been called a bitch. (If you’ve never been called a bitch, I can pretty much guarantee you are either a guy or ten years old.) What were the circumstances? Was some poor boopsie not getting their way? I thought so.
As a newly minted female architect back in the bad old days of sexual harassment, I had to grow a thick skin. In a male dominated field, there were plenty of men who doubted my competence or thought I shouldn’t have been let into the clubhouse. They let me know it in all kinds of ways. Everyone handles these situations differently. My defense is being good at my job and refusing to be intimidated.
One of the reasons to hire an architect is we stand between you, dear client, and the contractor as your representative. Contractors submit their requisitions for payment to us. We compare the amount requested against the materials purchased and work done. If the requisition stacks up, we approve it and you pay. If we find it in error, we ask for a correction before we sign off.
It may shock you to learn some contractors pad requisitions.
I was sitting at my desk, a contractor opposite me. I had rejected his requisition, and he was there to put the screws to me. It was pathetically transparent. He had asked for more than he had delivered. I wasn’t backing down. There was no way I was going to let him fleece my client.
He was getting steamed. We were going round and round. He was applying all his wiles. I was not caving in. I was getting angry, too, but doing my best to keep it professional.
“I am not signing this. You need to amend it.”
“You know,” he said at last, “you’re a real bitch.”
What, exactly, was he hoping to achieve with that barb? “Oh! Please! Stop! The pain! The humiliation! I shudder to be labeled the dreaded B-word! No one will like me! I take it back! I’ll sign your overt attempt to bamboozle my client.”
I startled even myself. I cocked my head, looked him in the eye, and calmly said, “It works for me.”
Was that snickering I heard from the next cubicle?
