Forgive me followers. It has been 6 months since my last Wardrobe Malfunction Post.
Where did I leave you?
I had just started a new job in the city that required me to wear pencil skirts that did not fall down. I was Melanie Griffiths in Working Girl. I was supermom shattering the glass ceiling.
Well that didn’t last long.
I was “let go” because I was not a good cultural fit.
Which was a bit of a blow to my ego really. No one wants to be told they’re not a good cultural fit. Especially when they are trying to assimilate into a new culture.
I think it was the fact that despite the fact that they’d agreed to it up front, having someone work completely different hours to everyone else causes some tension. Women, especially those without children are the worst critics.
Modern companies want to consider themselves diverse. They claim to want women working for them so that they can put it on their website and create some PR leverage.
But the reality of a working mum is far less comfortable.
Working mums take sick days when THEY aren’t sick. Working mums come in later or leave earlier than everyone else. Working mums don’t stay for drinks on a Friday or go away on company retreats.
It sounds good in the company profile but it takes real organisational commitment to really accommodate working moms.
So I totally get why one would decide that it wasn’t a good fit. If I owned a company I don’t think I’d hire mothers. Honestly, I don’t. I know what it entails and trust me; you are never 100% present when you’re a mom.
But seriously…”Not a fu%@*ig cultural fit.” Wow!
I just can’t figure it out. I don’t have a loud laugh. I never sniff or tell jokes. I am always clean and smell really nice. My skirts are never too short, my heels too high nor my neckline too low. I wash my cup when I’m done. I cover my food when I microwave it. I wipe the counter when I drip. I flush the toilet after every use. I wipe my kepyboard screen and keyboard because I’m slightly OCD. I know you won’t believe this, but I really don’t talk to anyone, much. I speak excellent English, the official language in Australia. Plus obviously, I work really hard. And I have always thought I was reasonably good at what I do.
A little bird told me that one of the female managers “Just didn’t like me.”
Again with the “What the Fu#@%K?”
I hope she has a colicky baby one day.
So I’ve moved on.
Onwards and upwards as they say.
And I’m working on a new and extremely exciting adventure.
I won’t reveal what it is just now, but I will, for your amusement , share wardrobe malfunction number 2. It ALMOST happened in the interview process.
Thankfully I learnt from Wardrobe Malfunction number 1 and looked in the mirror this time.
I had an interview via Skype planned. It was the second attempt at said Skype interview because the previous one had to be cut short when my children spontaneously combusted outside my study door in the 10 minutes I left them alone.
“Please, please watch your sister and don’t fight. Just give me 15 minutes and I’ll be back. Watch TV, don’t fight, and don’t let your sister put anything too small in her mouth.” I pleaded as I turned my back on three perfectly content children.
30 seconds into one of the most important Skye calls of my life the boys started a soccer game outside my study door. They moved Jocelyn into goals (her back up against the study door) and took turns to kick a soccer ball (which is weird because I think I’ve said 2 350 634 times, no soccer balls in the house?) into my study door.
I muted the Skype call momentarily while I popped my head out of the door to ask them to cease and desist.
We began again.
When suddenly I heard a bump, followed by Jocelyn’s blood curdling scream. From a child who almost never cries, I knew it was serious. (She had fallen face first off the couch).
So I cut the call off as politely as I could, muttering “this isn’t a good time” as I leapt from my chair to rescue my daughter from her brothers.
Since I still suspect I lost my last job because of my little brood, I was particularly sensitive to their disruptions.
Skip to skype interview date 2.
I scheduled it a bit later so that my husband could look after the children. (I am nothing if not a quick learner).
Two minutes before my interview was to begin, Jocelyn vomited all over me. Because she is sick and has a high fever. Which is why neither of us have slept for 2 nights in a row.
But I am super mum, and a bit of vomit is not going to stop me having an interview. Quick as a flash I whipped off the (very smart and carefully selected) top I was wearing and pulled on another one. I looked in the bathroom mirror, fixed my hair, pinched some colour into my cheeks and was ready to go.
Shoulders back, boobs out.
No really, my boobs came out.
I had pulled on a stupid old breastfeeding shirt in my hurried fluster. (The shirt has a slit under the bosom that enables women to discreetly breastfeed without lifting their whole shirt up).
So the undersides of my breasts were actually exposed.
Thank goodness I took a whirl in the full-length mirror on my way to my desk or I would actually have shown my lady bumps to my potential employer.
I popped those puppies right back where they belong and threw on a jacket.
It did get me thinking though.
There was a moment where I could have presented myself as anything I wanted to.
But the truth is this is who I am. And that was freaking hilarious!
I like who I am.
I am a mother of three really awesome children. They do not always listen to me. Sometimes they get sick and all they want to be held by mom. Sometimes they fall face first and I’m the only one who can make it better. I love my dog more than I like most people. I am scatty and crazy and I absolutely hate pencil skirts. I don’t wear much makeup and I almost never straighten my hair, even though I know that my appearance would be much enhanced if I did. I am just me.
And I realised as I hit the accept button on that Skype screen that if all that means I’m not a cultural fit, I’m okay with that.