Disjointed Rants
Well, I can't say I am a changed woman today, from my previous post. I still hate my job and the fact that I have to go to it. So, I guess I have some ways to go before I reach acceptance.
Don't worry, this won't be another post about that.
Today, I've been thinking about discrimination. (Yay! An even darker topic than resentment!)
Disclaimer: I know as a white, middle-classed, "privileged," woman, that the types of discrimination I have faced have been slim to none and minor compared to what some people have experienced. I acknowledge this. I hope this post doesn't discount those experiences. But this is my blog, so I am writing about me.
In 2009, I became a homeowner. I purchased a beautiful 2 bedroom, 2 bath, second-floor, 1400 square foot condo in Wilmington, NC. I was happy. I was single, and I was excited to make this bright and sunny place my home.
Fast forward three years. I got married. Husband moved in. He also had his own condo, a few miles away. He rented it out by placing an ad on Craigslist. Fast forward another year. We decided to uproot and move to Charlotte.
His condo was still being rented by the Craigslist-ad person, but I decided to hire a property manger to handle the rental of mine.
I am trying to make a long, boring story short, but I don't think I am doing a good job.
Bottom line: Because I was married, they said my husband's name HAD to be on the rental documentation, and his name HAD to be included in the monthly checks that deposited into MY bank account. (We have separate accounts.) Because I was young and dumb and it sounded like one of those unwritten rules of marriage, I didn't protest.
Another fast forward, two years. Husband solicits same rental company to take over his property.
Bottom line: My name was not MADE to be included on his rental documents. My name was not made to be included on his monthly checks that deposited into HIS account.
This doesn't sound like a big deal. And it isn't really. (He also doesn't think that it is.)
But it infuriated me.
To me, the implication was that I was an incompetent WOMAN who couldn't take care of her own business affairs. That I had to have my husband's name on everything, and he didn't have to have mine because he was a MAN.
That condo was always in my name. I never added his name to the deed. I get that being married, we would have to share the ownership. I get that unwritten rule. Or maybe it is written...
But why the double standard? Shouldn't the same be expected of his property? Doesn't he have to share it with me too?
When I sold my condo recently, guess who the lawyer called with a question? My husband.
Because once again, the WOMAN couldn't possibly own this condo on her own and take care of her own affairs. No.
Even though the New Hanover County Deed's Office held this deed in my name only, they still called my husband. It blew my mind.
Again, another small-seeming thing, but it INFURIATED ME!
If you can gather from this disjointed story of sexist woes, at least in the ways of real estate and property management, it would seem that these companies I've dealt with subscribe to more old fashioned terms :the man can only be the one capable of handling it all. It makes me not want to do business with those companies ever again.
Double standards always get to me the me the most. But I realize, in this world, I am fighting a losing battle in my quest for justice and equality. It the tiny sliver of unfairness I have experienced, I cannot imagine how worse it can get for others.
What I learn from situations like this, from when I have been mistreated, or unfairly targeted, or wronged, is that I never hope to make anyone feel that way: insignificant, invalid, "crazy." I like to think that I treat folks equally and honestly, but in reality, I make unfair judgements sometimes too. A good test of this is to work with students. I've done so as a teacher and as someone who works within a student service office, and you definitely encounter some students you do not like. But you still have to treat them the same as you do the students you do like. You could replace the word "student" with customer, and there you have it.
Customer Service: Where you have to do a lot of pretending to care about other people's dumb problems that are probably their own fault.
If you can't tell, I've worked in a the service industry just long enough to become jaded. I am good at my job. I do care most of the time, but it wears you down. And sometimes you just feel like snapping. But you don't. It gets old because it never changes.
Funny how it alllll circles back around to how much I hate my job.
Speaking of that, being at my current job, is one of the few places I have memories of being "fat-shamed" Some would argue that is not a form of discrimination and cannot be used as an example. I would argue that any time someone tries to deem you inferior because of a certain attribute you have, is wrong. Call it what you want, but it's just wrong.
Sure, I can remember times throughout my life where a comment has been made. Usually it is by someone's grandparent, who has no filter, and mentions my arms must be great at throwing softballs because of their size. These are the times you laugh it off to get through the awkwardness of a moment, die inside for a second, and then move on to the next thing.
On two occasions at my current job, I've been called fat by strangers. One, a colleague, of all people, went to take a photo of myself standing in between one of my thinner co-workers and lean, athletic-looking boss. She pointed at me and said, "You, the big one, get on the end, " gruffly, abruptly, and much to my embarrassment. We awkwardly changed positions, and this woman proceeded to acknowledge her faux pas and continued to talk circles around it, until my boss, bless her, said, "I think you need to just take the picture and move on." As soon as it was over, I excused myself to the bathroom to cry.
On another occasion, I was walking up the street to another office. It was freezing cold, and my face was no doubt, red. A student made a rude comment about me being fat and huffing up the hill. A student, I had never seen before in my life, who made this comment just in passing by me on the sidewalk. I think I was too shocked to really respond in the moment, and too cold to turn around and confront him. Things that you remember though.
Mistreatment because you don't fit the mold or ideal of what someone has for you. I guess this is not exactly discrimination, but it is wrong, nonetheless.
I wouldn't call myself a total introvert, but if I had to choose between my cat or people, I would choose my cat almost every time.
Don't worry, this won't be another post about that.
Today, I've been thinking about discrimination. (Yay! An even darker topic than resentment!)
Disclaimer: I know as a white, middle-classed, "privileged," woman, that the types of discrimination I have faced have been slim to none and minor compared to what some people have experienced. I acknowledge this. I hope this post doesn't discount those experiences. But this is my blog, so I am writing about me.
In 2009, I became a homeowner. I purchased a beautiful 2 bedroom, 2 bath, second-floor, 1400 square foot condo in Wilmington, NC. I was happy. I was single, and I was excited to make this bright and sunny place my home.
Fast forward three years. I got married. Husband moved in. He also had his own condo, a few miles away. He rented it out by placing an ad on Craigslist. Fast forward another year. We decided to uproot and move to Charlotte.
His condo was still being rented by the Craigslist-ad person, but I decided to hire a property manger to handle the rental of mine.
I am trying to make a long, boring story short, but I don't think I am doing a good job.
Bottom line: Because I was married, they said my husband's name HAD to be on the rental documentation, and his name HAD to be included in the monthly checks that deposited into MY bank account. (We have separate accounts.) Because I was young and dumb and it sounded like one of those unwritten rules of marriage, I didn't protest.
Another fast forward, two years. Husband solicits same rental company to take over his property.
Bottom line: My name was not MADE to be included on his rental documents. My name was not made to be included on his monthly checks that deposited into HIS account.
This doesn't sound like a big deal. And it isn't really. (He also doesn't think that it is.)
But it infuriated me.
To me, the implication was that I was an incompetent WOMAN who couldn't take care of her own business affairs. That I had to have my husband's name on everything, and he didn't have to have mine because he was a MAN.
That condo was always in my name. I never added his name to the deed. I get that being married, we would have to share the ownership. I get that unwritten rule. Or maybe it is written...
But why the double standard? Shouldn't the same be expected of his property? Doesn't he have to share it with me too?
When I sold my condo recently, guess who the lawyer called with a question? My husband.
Because once again, the WOMAN couldn't possibly own this condo on her own and take care of her own affairs. No.
Even though the New Hanover County Deed's Office held this deed in my name only, they still called my husband. It blew my mind.
Again, another small-seeming thing, but it INFURIATED ME!
If you can gather from this disjointed story of sexist woes, at least in the ways of real estate and property management, it would seem that these companies I've dealt with subscribe to more old fashioned terms :the man can only be the one capable of handling it all. It makes me not want to do business with those companies ever again.
Double standards always get to me the me the most. But I realize, in this world, I am fighting a losing battle in my quest for justice and equality. It the tiny sliver of unfairness I have experienced, I cannot imagine how worse it can get for others.
What I learn from situations like this, from when I have been mistreated, or unfairly targeted, or wronged, is that I never hope to make anyone feel that way: insignificant, invalid, "crazy." I like to think that I treat folks equally and honestly, but in reality, I make unfair judgements sometimes too. A good test of this is to work with students. I've done so as a teacher and as someone who works within a student service office, and you definitely encounter some students you do not like. But you still have to treat them the same as you do the students you do like. You could replace the word "student" with customer, and there you have it.
Customer Service: Where you have to do a lot of pretending to care about other people's dumb problems that are probably their own fault.
If you can't tell, I've worked in a the service industry just long enough to become jaded. I am good at my job. I do care most of the time, but it wears you down. And sometimes you just feel like snapping. But you don't. It gets old because it never changes.
Funny how it alllll circles back around to how much I hate my job.
Speaking of that, being at my current job, is one of the few places I have memories of being "fat-shamed" Some would argue that is not a form of discrimination and cannot be used as an example. I would argue that any time someone tries to deem you inferior because of a certain attribute you have, is wrong. Call it what you want, but it's just wrong.
Sure, I can remember times throughout my life where a comment has been made. Usually it is by someone's grandparent, who has no filter, and mentions my arms must be great at throwing softballs because of their size. These are the times you laugh it off to get through the awkwardness of a moment, die inside for a second, and then move on to the next thing.
On two occasions at my current job, I've been called fat by strangers. One, a colleague, of all people, went to take a photo of myself standing in between one of my thinner co-workers and lean, athletic-looking boss. She pointed at me and said, "You, the big one, get on the end, " gruffly, abruptly, and much to my embarrassment. We awkwardly changed positions, and this woman proceeded to acknowledge her faux pas and continued to talk circles around it, until my boss, bless her, said, "I think you need to just take the picture and move on." As soon as it was over, I excused myself to the bathroom to cry.
On another occasion, I was walking up the street to another office. It was freezing cold, and my face was no doubt, red. A student made a rude comment about me being fat and huffing up the hill. A student, I had never seen before in my life, who made this comment just in passing by me on the sidewalk. I think I was too shocked to really respond in the moment, and too cold to turn around and confront him. Things that you remember though.
Mistreatment because you don't fit the mold or ideal of what someone has for you. I guess this is not exactly discrimination, but it is wrong, nonetheless.
I wouldn't call myself a total introvert, but if I had to choose between my cat or people, I would choose my cat almost every time.
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