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The Joy of
Being a "Girl"
By Jennifer Gravel Vanasse
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Executive Assistant.
Administrative Professional. Medical/Legal Secretary. All politically
correct terms for the woman who has chosen as her career the difficult
task of supporting someone else's profession. This time honoured occupation,
once held only by men, was infiltrated and eventually usurped by our fore-sisters.
No longer relegated to working as a maid, nurse or primary school teacher,
our ancestors forged another avenue for women with marketable talents.
Women could also be "Girls".
These days, administrative professionals seek unprecedented amounts of
respect. No longer willing to stand in the shadows, they seek equal standing
with those they assist. They expect, if not demand, recognition and status
as professionals. Has the job changed so much that it merits this name
change? No, it is the women who have changed. We have become so ashamed
of being Girls that we conjure up new and longer titles to prop up our
self-esteem. This is exactly what the stay-at-home Moms did, when they
began calling themselves Domestic Engineers.
But why the longing for titles and prestige, along with which comes such
a heavy burden of responsibility? In this hectic world of overwork and
stress, wouldn't it be nice to revert to a simpler time, when a man was
Boss and a
Girl could bask in her position of subservience. The way employers used
to
refer to their assistants had a ring of class and distinction, even romance
and mystery. "I'll have my Girl set up that appointment," the
hat-wearing
manager would say crisply. At the other end of a monstrously large
intercom, a white shirted, pencil-skirt wearing Girl would scribble the
instruction on a note pad using an ever-sharpened pencil. Tottering around
on four-inch heels, so as not to be labelled "dowdy", she would
complete her task with quiet efficiency, knowing that she was better seen
than heard.
Even more important than her keen sense of fashion and deportment, a Girl
had to know the secret code of all secret codes: shorthand. In fact, her
skills were far superior to ours in many other ways. There was no magic
spell-checking system to proofread her work before it was printed. For
a Girl, no errors were allowed for at all, lest she had to correct all
of the copies by hand. Copies were created by messy carbon paper slipped
between the letterhead and the sheets of onionskin that were rolled into
the carriage of the Girl's clunky cast-iron typewriter. Perfectly manicured
fingers had to be strong to successfully push those keys through seven
layers.
But, in those days gone by, a Girl would pick up her clutch purse, put
on her hat and gloves and jauntily head out the door of the office at
the stroke of five. She was not responsible to stay late and find solutions
to corporate problems. Thinking was the role of the Boss. A Girl was only
expected to take dictation,type
without errors and make coffee. With her filing done, she could go home
with her thoughts unburdened by the cares of the office. Her spare time
and excess energy would allow her to focus on taking care of her family,
or if she was unmarried, to focus on herself and ensure she stayed in
tiptop, marriageable state.
Why then did it stop being okay to be a "Girl"? Why do we insist
on trying to be more and do more, all the while suffering from a vague
sense of dissatisfaction? We women have enough to do in our lives, without
taking on so much responsibility at work. Self-esteem doesn't come from
a title. Self-love comes from knowing who you are, regardless of your
title. So why not lower your expectations and raise your spirits. Pressure?
You don't have to feel it. Overtime? You don't have to do it. Fetching
coffee? Take it as a break, not a form of degradation. Throw away the
administrative professional yoke. Straighten your shoulders, take pride
in your heritage and with confidence declare: "I am a Girl!"
©2005
Jennifer Gravel Vanasse
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jennifer Gravel Vanasse has been writing all her life, though for the
past 17 years it hasbeen in the course of her employment with a highly
successful law firm in Ottawa. She has had articles published in the Ottawa
Association of Law
Clerks Newsletter and friends, family and acquaintances seek after her
original and customized poetry. Jennifer's goal is to branch out from
making judges cry and to enter the world of mainstream fiction. She currently
lives in Ottawa with her husband Randy and stepson Nick and their huge
dog, a Lab-Newf mix named Zucchini.
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