Implications

I have recently come to the conclusion that women are bizarre. I work with about a dozen of them at City Hall, all in sundry stages of life: mothers, sisters, aunts, grandmothers, matriarchs, daughters, saints, sluts, queens, witches, divas, nurses, hens and angels, all by turns.

They are in power or under control, in cahoots or under the impression. They connive, conspire, manipulate, criticize, wrangle, whine, gossip, and all but resort to physical violence. One is ambitious, one regretful, one moody, two suspicious, one obvious, one oblivious, two judgemental to the extreme, and they're all guilty, self righteous, and completely addicted to chocolate.

Then there are the times they come through. Shining moments of generosity and cameraderie. At these times, they are a family. For an instant, I couldn't find better friends. They confide and comiserate, boost, sustain, and compliment. They band together, collect a fund, volunteer, cover up, surprise, stay late, and all but bend over backwards. When they find a slice of common ground, it's as if all their vast differences disappear, and peace temporarily reigns.

They torment and tease. They nickname and sympathize. They insist on knowing everything, but don't tell all. They host lavish potlucks, share dessert recipes, and shelter diet secrets. They've been through marriages, divorces, pregnancies, promotions, injustices, deaths, grandkids, kids' divorces, multiple mayors and council members, plastic surgeries, major surgeries, bad winters and anything else life has to offer.

There are two certainties in the world of working women: cheesecake and miscommunication.

And it seems to me that men have enough sense to just work together.