Day One – the new gig

I arrive with a mid-west level of punctuality. I purchased a whole new wardrobe as jeans and hoodies are frowned upon in government work. The admin supervisor and I exchange a lot of paperwork. In my onboarding packet there is a department handbook with an acronym guide and a half sheet bulleted list regarding what to do if you receive a bomb threat.

First order of business: physically walk the evacuation route. In retrospect this is amusing as the route we walked was not the one I would need should an evacuation be necessary as I actually work in a different building.

In a department of 200 employees I count on a single hand the number of people who seem to be less than a decade older than I am. The walls are neither white nor gray but some non-committal hazy whitish grayish. I work behind a secure door in a grayish greenish cubical configured such that my back is to the opening.

I learn early on that some of the members of the hiring committee were opposed to me being offered the job. So, this is going to be a little different than the gracious trust and faith in success my prior employer afforded me. I am intrigued by this naysayer and find his underestimate of me rather quaint.

I come into work every morning. Sometimes I see other people as I navigate the maze to my desk, sometimes I do not, but I never talk to anyone. It isn’t that people are unfriendly. They are just not friendly – an important distinction. People do not make eye contact. There are no warm smiles. Everyone’s backs are to the opening of their cubicle. My primary work relationship is with Pandora – we communicate about my likes and dislikes via thumbs up/thumbs down. I read regulations, supplemental guidance, strategic plans and watch webinars. I question my life choices.

New employee orientation

I didn’t realize it at the time but I had a very jaded sense of the role of the Human Resources department when I started. Based on prior experience I expected that all HR departments were as invested in their employees as their employers.

I am sitting with a new sheriff’s deputy whose having some sort of bureaucratic issue with the boots they were supposed to order him. There is a new hire for finance as well. We continue to run into each other for the next seven years and counting.

There is an extraordinary amount of paperwork and though I reviewed it ahead of time there are parts which are unclear. After we finish an anti-harassment video starring a barely late middle age white guy as the victim and the day long endeavor is being dismissed, I ask a clarifying question regarding benefits as my family structure doesn’t fit neatly into the boxes provided. I explained my question…

The HR representative laughs and says, “Next thing you know we will be insuring your pets.” It echos indefinitely.

I send an email to the HR director encouraging a more culturally competent on-boarding experience. She responds, “I will take care of it.” But the six word response to my carefully crafted email feels hollow and I question whether saying something mattered at all.

Growing family

A couple of years pass and that initially chilly environment warms over time. I don’t remember telling most of my colleagues I was pregnant so the announcement must have been uneventful. But I was struck by how many people voiced their surprise, certain that if we were going to have more children Anji would certainly carry. After all, she has long hair and wears women’s clothing.

As my pregnancy progressed I found that women I worked with saw me in a different light and I was invited into conversations I had previously been left out of. There was a new sense of belonging. Though I usually avoid large social situations I was disappointed for having to miss the baby shower they threw me as I was on bed rest. I was so touched by the number of people who attended and their thoughtful gifts.

Like my mother tried to teach me (though unsuccessful in childhood) I was keen on sending prompt and individually tailored thank you cards. But, whenever I sat up I felt dizzy and had to lay down. So, cards had to wait.

Upon my return, nearly five months after I had started bed rest I was surprised that my absence had had so little impact. Most things were as I had left them and the things I had missed didn’t seem to matter. I desperately missed my baby human and where work had been the center of my identity before, I had a new perspective

Shift in focus

Though having a six month old at home is not an ideal time to switch jobs an opportunity arose to work more closely with data than the contracts and I decided to jump on it.

I had to interview for this new role. One of the questions was, “What does diversity mean to you?” I accidentally said something to the effect of, “This is the type of questions entities ask when they don’t know how to talk about diversity.” Then I told some story about what it is like being queer and driving across the country looking for a safe place to stop for gas.

The answer was in-eloquent and dripping with unprocessed microaggressions.

Somebody in their spray paint got too close/ Somebody came on too heavy/ Now look at me made ugly by the drooling letters/ I was better off alone/ Ain't that the way it is/ They don't know the first thing but you don't know that until they take the first swing - Ani DiFranco, Coming Up

I still got that job. And I wonder, was my answer better than it felt? Or was the score for all the other questions enough to make up for it? Or was it that the criteria was just that the interviewee is someone who thinks about and values diversity?

In the next few years my scope of work shifted from a team of one to four. In October 2018 our teams hold mostly affection for one another. We attend back to back conferences spending the majority of two weeks together.

I am at such an exciting place in my life. I love my job and enjoy my colleagues. There it is again – that sense of belonging.

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In the weeks following the back to back conferences the truth of my identity reveals itself – layers of secrecy, mostly to myself, begin to peel away. By mid-December I have told my wife, my children, mother, brother and sister in-law and my wife’s family – other stories for other times.

I feel that I have missed out on so much by burying this for so long, I am eager to be open and authentic. Yet…there are logistics.

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