Women’s Energy: Yin/Yang – The Convention(s)

Catch up here: The Set Up.

The convention would run through the weekend. It kicked off with dinner on Friday night for those who could get there by then. I drove up after work with the two men I worked, both of them chattering all the way. I was new but they’d worked for Frito for a long time and knew everyone. They called our peers “all the old dogs”. “We’re goin’ up and see all the old dogs,” they said. I was amused.

We checked into the hotel after a five hour drive, agreeing to clean up and meet in the lobby before heading to dinner. We planned to sit together and they told me they’d introduce me to everyone.

I was keen on this because meet and greet and flit is not my strong suit. I was very appreciative of being flanked by two surrogate big brothers. Aquarians, no less who are very well suited to this kind of scenario. I was feeling very fortunately “covered.” You know. If my personality was to bolt on me, as it does sometimes, either one could pick up the slack while I smiled prettily or something.

Chip told us the curiosity about me was high across the state. Sky high. “They aren’t coming to hear about the new products that’s for sure,” he said. “They don’t care. They say bring it to us and whatever it is, we’ll sell it. We want a look at, Elsa!”

Chip had gone on and on about this and two Aquarians thought it was very interesting. They wanted to witness and me? Well I was kind of the star so I was part-happy about that. Part happy, part proud and part nervous wreck. I was young and had never been to anything like this. I’m from the desert in case you haven’t heard.

We walked in and people were mulling around. The Aquarians were well known and popular. Once they were spotted, three other men rushed to greet them.  One of the Aquarians, Frank, introduced me. “Elsa, this is Tom and Dick and Harry,” he said. “Tom, Dick and Harry, this is Elsa.”

I shook their hands. “Nice to meet you,” I said, trying to act un-nervous. There was no response.

Now it turned out they were trying to figure out who I was. Yeah. There was a weird blip and then one of them men slapped his forehead. “Oh! You must be Frank’s wife!” he said.

“Huh?” I asked. Because I was not, Frank’s wife. And this was especially confusing because no one had brought their wife. There were no wives in the room because spouses were not invited! As a matter of fact, I was the only woman there. “No. I’m not his wife,” I said, looked at him, queerly. “I’m Elsa,” I said as if this should explain it.

But no. Now it was his turn to be baffled. “Huh?” he asked. “Who?”

Frank spoke up. “She’s not my wife. What’s the matter with you? She’s a salesman. Well, she’s a sales GIRL. I guess you can see that. You know. Elsa! She’s the girl on top the list every week. What other Elsa do you think would be here, ya dumb ass? What’s the matter with you? This is her. This is Elsa!” he said, indicating, ME, with both hands. “Where are your manners? You ought to show her some respect the way she’s been kickin’ your ass,” he said. I snorted, involuntarily.

“No way,” the guy said. He didn’t believe it. He thought it was a joke. He thought it was some kind of set up. We all watched as he took a step back. Seriously. He took a step back. “You’re Elsa? Elsa P?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I answered. “I’m Elsa. I’m Elsa P.”

Frank chimed in. “Yeah this is her. What? Not what you expected?” He was gloating and I felt embarrassed. There was some fumbling.

“You’re really, Elsa?” the guy asked.

“Yes.”

“Oh. Nice to meet you,” he said. But he was disturbed.

He went off to tell others and it didn’t go well. Matter of fact, I was completely ostracized for the entire weekend. The men I worked with were sensitive to the situation. They worked double time to keep me shored up while not even one of the other men there that weekend strung three words together to say to me unless it was vaguely demeaning. It was completely horrible (for me) and then we went home.

Fast forward a few years, I had a friend who invented a product.  She was going to a convention in Las Vegas to try to sell it.  She’d never done anything like this in her life.  Brave chick. Double Aries.

I told this gal this story. I told her it would have been fine if I were Frank’s wife. No one would have had a problem with me. I thought she was really smart to see the potential of a problem going in to an all-male environment because I didn’t. Being blindsided usually makes things twice as difficult to cope with. I suggested she get on top the situation from the minute she hit the room. Take control and assert herself. Aries!

Here’s another thing about this gal: we looked alike. Generally speaking, I mean. We were the same size, same color, same hair, same status or lack of it… however you may rate people we were pretty much evenly matched.  She didn’t have anything to wear to the convention. She was a tomboy for the most part with no idea how to dress professionally.

Well, I’d been there before so I did for her what my sister had done for me many times. I went in my closet and gave her everything she would need for the three days, and off she went. Do you want to know what happened?

She told me she needed to sell $10,000 on the weekend. That would be enough to pay her rent for the month and prove her business was viable. She came home from the convention with $260,000 in sales! (close to a million in today’s terms I’d say) How’s that for a successful Saturn return?

She said, at first it was disgusting. Turns out there were other women in room but every single one of them was a prostitute who had been provided… well you know. It was Las Vegas. This flustered her and nearly knocked her off her game. She thought there would be at least one other woman there selling something besides their bodies, but no. She was caught off guard but she recovered and danced her gig. She was roundly accepted and taken serious. She had problem NONE. I just shook my head.

“If it were me in that room, I’d have sold nothing! I’d have been solicited for sex for sure. Someone may have become enamored of me or thought I was cute. Someone would have gotten drunk and proposed marriage but take me seriously as a peer? Not a chance…”

Now, remember she was wearing my clothes. She was wearing what I would have worn but instead of quarter million dollars in sales, I would have had some guy blowing on my neck or brushing up against me, rubbing his dick on my leg or worse and this is when I knew she had something I didn’t. She could go into a room and be one of the guys! I can’t do that, I never could. And I mourn this, but you know what they say. You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit!

And what do I get? Well I have no problem finding a husband, do I?

But anyway, I think this is interesting. As driven and dynamic and competitive as I am, my energy is still overwhelmingly yin and yielding. And it’s strange. Because in reality I am a feminist’s feminist. Anyone who takes it upon themselves to sue their boss for sexual harassment as a teenager, before “sexual harassment” even exists can’t be characterized as anything less. But if you were to see me out in the world, you would have a much different impression.

So what about you? Are you recognized wherever you go? Or are you more like me, flying under wire, whether you like or not?