I suggested to her that she negotiate. "Ok fine. This year we do it your way, but next year, I rule." From the look on her face I could tell that was not an option. And then I realized . . . negotiating is a male response. Emotionally arm-wrestling until one of you caves is classically female.
I grew up in a male-dominated household. I had 3 brothers and no one ever got miffed. They got outraged. And somebody had the bruises to prove it. There was no such thing as a slight in my family; loud inventive insults were the norm. But you knew where you stood and your place in the pecking order. And you could change that pecking order simply by landing a good punch.
The communication was not subtle. My brother Dan says you had to stand on the table and shout just to be noticed. This is the brother that tried to comfort me after my divorce by telling me, "Oh for God's sake Deb, lose some weight, buy a new dress, catch another."
So the intricacies of female communication elude me. Completely. The murmur, the raised eyebrow, the disapproving look, the long sigh. I'm oblivious. If it's not overt, it's like it never happened. It's a lot like being in a foreign land. It's a secret sorority.
On the other hand, male rage fails to impress. I was in a meeting once that got heated. Focusing on general perceived lack of ability in the room, some executive anger was unleashed. It was fairly spectacular with shouting, fist-pounding and red-faced ferocity. There was even swearing. You know how they get when their bonuses are at risk.
I looked around the room. It worked. Almost everyone looked fearful and intimidated. "Huh," I thought, "interesting. What else you got? Sounds like we need to negotiate."
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