This is my first post for the Political Voices of Women. For those of you who aren’t familiar with my blog, The Pink Flamingo, I will do a quick introduction by saying that I am a Republican. In fact, I consider myself a Republican, first, last, and always. I want to thank Catherine Morgan for inviting me to add my political voice to that of other women. It will be primarily conservative, but I like to have my own opinions.
You also need to know that I am a staunch supporter of John McCain. Periodically, over the next few months, I will endeavor to convert those of you who are not. When the election cycle began, I did not like Hillary Clinton. I had little use for her. As the months went by, I began to have a grudging respect for her which has grown into very real admiration. I wonder if I could handle myself as gracefully as has she.
I don’t like hypocrites. I don’t like people who are fake, be them liberal, moderate, conservative, Democratic or Republican. Much to my consternation, the other day I found myself guilty of that very behavior. It made me think – quite a bit.
I stopped off at the bank to do the usual after a week out of town. I noticed that the girls working behind the counter were dressed in a manner that reflected more a ‘Friday’ casual look than banking Tuesday. If their attire was ‘serious’ banking, then I am afraid to see what ‘Casual Friday’ might entail. It reminded me of several things. First, are we going to you know what in a hand-basket because of our sloppy dress? Second, is it any indication of a lapse in societal manners, morals, and customs?
I was waxing poetic about the downfall of civilization as we know it until I started a chain of thought that took be back to South Carolina about 20 years ago. My father had some friends I never really liked. He only hung out with them at his morning coffee stop, and had a tendency to eat a greasy spoon lunch with them, every weekday for years and years and years… He had a friend who was involved in eggs, chickens, and a heck of a lot of money. His friend decided to remarry after his 2nd wife ran off with the deposed county sheriff cum private investigator. Is the story sounding a little shady? It should.
My father’s friend made the great and terrible mistake of asking my mother (who has been hailed by one and all as one very classy lady – my sister and I don’t even try to keep up with her) to take wife #3, or was it #4 under her wing and teach her how to dress, talk, act. You can imagine how well that went, especially when another wife of another of my father’s friends told my mother about this other woman’s previous profession. You guessed correctly, it was one of the older professions.
Anyway – the professional woman previously mentioned happened to work at one of the local banks, which has since merged and re-merged as frequently as her husband had exchanged wives. Everyone always commented on how this specific branch of this specific bank always had the sharpest looking and dressing women.
Low and behold that branch was the location the women who really worked for the bank were stationed. They would report to another city, to a high-rise office building owned by the bank, where a party room was maintained. There, important officials, politicians, and clients would be – shall we say – entertained. The women were rewarded with higher pay, trips, clothes, jewelry, etc.
I had a friend who worked for this specific bank.. There was nothing glamorous about her. My friend was as chunky as am I. She could never get ahead, but other, less talented women who were quite attractive, were promoted over her and shipped off to the specific branch in question. After years of being ignored, banging her head on the glass ceiling, she went with a newly formed bank, where she quickly rose to the top of the local ladder.
One day my friend’s bank bought the other bank. Guess who ended up managing that specific ‘whore’ branch (as it was known) and ended up as a VP of what was now one of the top banks in the country. Yep, my friend. The cute little trick-turners were doing what my father’s friend’s newest wife was doing, looking for rich husbands. They had to do something considering they were unemployed.
There is a moral here.
Perhaps the girls working at the local bank here, where were so ‘dressed down’ are the talented ones.
I thought a lot about judging people and that glass ceiling. Evidently there are some organizations where a woman’s appearance is more important than her abilities. During the primary elections there was a tremendous amount of conversation about Hillary Clinton’s pantsuits and her ‘dowdy’ attire. Little did those criticizing the Senator from New York, that she was wearing fairly expensive, American made and designed togs. Maybe it is all about appearances. You would never hear a male POTUS candidate be criticized for his attire unless it was outrageous.
I guess it’s that old glass ceiling. Speaking of which, Barack Obama is talking a good game about equal pay for equal work. The problem is he doesn’t practice what he preaches. Women on his staff make an average of $6000 less a year than the average man who is doing the same job. Both Hillary Clinton and John McCain pay women a little more or the same wage as they do the men who work for them.
Appearances can be a funny thing.
FYI - According to my mother, who was in the bank the other day, those two girls who were so casually dressed were ‘as dumb as dirt’. I guess that blows the whole moral of the story.
