Childhood dreams
When I was seven years old, I had a day off school, so my mom took me to the office since she couldn’t find anyone to look after me. She was working at the European Parliament as a secretary, and she had to prepare hundreds of copies of reports for political party members. This was before the age of computers, so all the documents had to be printed, copied, stapled, and inserted in envelopes by hand. My task for the day was to staple huge stacks of paper with an impressively powerful electric stapler. This was so exciting that I enthusiastically announced I wanted to be a secretary, too, when I grew up. My mother laughed and, with a slight look of dread, replied: “Please don’t.” I later came to understand that she had quit working as a freelance journalist to raise her kids and, as a single mom, she had traded in her passion for the secure and stable job of secretary.
If there is a God, (S)He must have been listening to me that day, because, for thirteen of the past twenty-five years, I have been a secretary – or “assistant” as we are now called. I can’t help but note that God must have been sleeping when I said, with equal fervour, that I wanted to be an opera singer, a dancer, a Chinese translator, and many other professions I dreamed of doing over the years. But being an admin assistant was indeed a profession that always allowed me to find employment in between gigs in creative sectors, which was my true passion all along.
The long and winding road
After a three-year flirtation with political science, during which I pictured myself someday writing a comparative biography of Hitler and Stalin, I realised that I was much too emotional for diplomacy or academia. I was full of ideals and dreamed of changing the world in any modest way I could. Since my overactive brain had always found reprieve in music and dance, which immersed me in parallel universes, it didn’t take too long for me to figure out that I could change perceptions and minds through the arts.
My journey took me to the world of film in Europe, and then theatre in Canada. Soon enough, I was working on musicals, which I expected would become my career. I had finally found my place among people who were as intense and passionate as I was. But, as anyone who has ever worked in the arts can tell you, regardless of your talent or willpower, not many manage to earn a decent living working in creative fields. So I was happy enough to easily find temporary jobs as an assistant in between contracts on plays and films.
During those juggling phases of my life, I would often laugh at myself while changing to go to rehearsals after my day job. I remember thinking of Superman’s quick costume change in phone booths while I had my own quick “costume change” from a proper, square assistant to a somewhat flamboyant artiste, in the office bathroom. Although I was never interested in being an actress, I often felt like I was playing a part when working in offices. I had my “Super Assistant” outfit, was wearing a Super Assistant’s smile on my face, and always pretended to be just a little bit dumb. No boss wants an assistant who outsmarts him or her! But I often also enjoyed these short-term contracts, because they were teaching me different ways of doing things. With each new job, I gained knowledge about various industries, which helped me to better understand people and the world.
Nonetheless, I had always assumed that one day, I’d end up living on what I was earning as a writer-director, and later a cultural activist. Being an assistant was never a career choice for me. It was something I was doing to cover the financial gaps left by my chosen occupation. Unfortunately, my dedication to causes and arts always surpassed my ability to negotiate a good salary for myself, even when I was my own boss. Over the eight years that I ran my non-profit organisation in Montreal, whose mission it was to demystify Roma and combat antigypsyism through cultural events, I made sure everyone got paid – except me.
Motherhood
When I was in my thirties, I moved back to Europe, and while temporarily working as an assistant again, I became a mother.
Giving birth to a daughter opened my eyes to the fact that I didn’t want her to follow in my footsteps. I didn’t want to see a third generation of girls in my lineage become an assistant despite herself. I was intent on showing her that another path was possible, so I started a small business in events. I loved my job, but I was struggling to make ends meet, having to endlessly prospect for new clients, working evenings and weekends. A network of entrepreneur moms, who were all very enthusiastic and idealistic, confirmed my fear that without a breadwinning partner, it was practically impossible to get a business off the ground and raise a family. As the head of my household, I had to make a hard choice between being there for my child and having a job that I loved.
As my marriage came to an end, my daughter’s father moved abroad, so I was left with no alternative. I went from being a solo entrepreneur mom to a nine-to-five job seeker once more. Despite myself, I started a new job as an assistant – something I had vowed never to do again. Unless I really had to.
Icarus
This time though, things were looking quite different. I joined an exciting company, whose values and employees inspired me. Although I didn’t particularly enjoy my daily tasks, I was learning a lot from my highly skilled colleagues, and the fast-paced and dynamic work culture was like a shot of adrenalin. My job turned out to be much more than that of a regular assistant, and I quickly came to wear three hats for the price of one. Although my multiple roles were not reflected in my salary nor in the agreement I had signed, it did make my daily work increasingly interesting. My unpleasant boss Delphine’s prolonged leave of absence gave me the opportunity to be involved in exciting projects at work. I was learning and thriving, and there were even rumours that I might transition to the role of a coordinator. Finally, I saw a possibility for me to move upwards from a position of assistant!
But Delphine came back. Her return was like that unpleasant alarm clock ringing to wake you from a beautiful dream. My having spread my wings under her peers’ mentorship did not sit well with her.
Administrative Professionals Day
So on one April 17th, known as “Administrative Professionals Day”*, she sat me down and explained that my newfound increased autonomy, responsibility, and visibility, would be amputated. I would revert to an ever more administrative position, and any project I had become involved in as a coordinator would be aborted. I felt like I had been punched in the gut. As she got up to leave, she turned around and with an earnest smile, she added: “By the way, happy Assistants’ Day!” I gave a hollow laugh, to which she replied, with no trace of irony: “Don’t laugh. You are very important… because you make us shine!”
I believe she meant it as praise, since she didn’t possess the empathy needed to realise how condescending she sounded. This one sentence awakened in me an overwhelming feeling of bitterness and cynicism regarding my dead-end position. As a single parent raising my child by myself, I couldn’t afford to explain to her what her comment implied. It meant that any admin assistants’ only value is in making their higher-ups shine, and excluded any option for personal ambition. It meant that the way we did our work, rather than making us shine, should solely be reflected in our managers’ worth.
Putting things into perspective
Throughout all my years of juggling between the roles of assistant and those of theatre, film, and events creator, I experienced being on two ends of the glory spectrum. I had been the one who was applauded on stage, and the one who brought beverages into meeting rooms for Board Members. This taught me a lot about people and how they behave when they are in positions of power. There truly are only two ways to lead: one is by controlling and pushing others down, and the other is by guiding and pulling others up. Managing does not mean that you are superior – I have had proof enough of that with several of my bosses. What it should mean is that you have the skills and abilities to manage people towards reaching goals that, when a team functions well, have been identified collectively.
What was most surprising with Delphine was that she played by the rules of foregone centuries. According to her set of values, directors and managers were part of the elite, or ruling class in a professional context, while assistants were the servants. We were there to assist, obey, and make “our betters” shine, just as servants were expected to make the family silver shine. And despite innumerable inspiring quotes printed on posters in the workplace, Delphine’s view of this workplace class divide is still more the rule than the exception.
Give her flowers
Another Assistants’ Day that comes to mind happened a decade earlier. While on my way to work, I saw a banner above a flower shop that read: “Failing to give your assistant a raise, give her flowers!” This brutally honest banner felt very much like a cruel joke on all of us assistants.
It so happened that a mere two months earlier, I had come into work and done fourteen-hour workdays in preparation for our annual conference, despite being sick. I had gone above and beyond to ensure that everything could run smoothly. After all my long-term efforts, instead of a bonus, I was given… flowers. That bouquet remained on my work desk until it dried up, and I finally put it in the bin where it belonged. My then-boss, who was incidentally also a woman, seemed offended that I did not want to bring the flowers home. Like Delphine, she could not see that a lovely bouquet was a reminder of the glass ceiling assistants cannot break through to access higher positions, regardless of their qualifications. It was a symbol of my place as a lower being within that structure; one who should be contented with flowers instead of monetary compensation. I do wonder if she would have given flowers to me, had I been a male assistant.
The cannibals
In the assistants’ world, we tell each other jokes highlighting the fact that we are the overlooked base of every organisation and corporation. My favourite one is about a group of cannibals who infiltrate a company, disguised as regular employees. One by one, they eat the white-collar workers, until one day, an emergency meeting of the cannibals is called by their leader. He shouts out: “Which one of you idiots ate the VP’s assistant? Because of you, we will be found out!” One member timidly raises his hand. The enraged leader adds: “Why did you have to go and eat someone whose absence will actually be noticed?!” I still love that joke because, while working as a temp in various companies, I have seen the repercussions a “lowly” assistant’s unplanned absence can have on the whole structure.
The assistants are the first line of defence, they are the filters and organisers for the decision-makers of the company. They know and keep all the secrets, hence the term “secretary”. They make sure that the right people get meetings with the bosses, and they gently filter out unwanted contacts. They are the go-betweens and edge smoothers for bosses and staff alike. Often, they also do all the research allowing their managers to make informed decisions on any given issue. They truly are essential to any organisation.
She has cats
And yet, assistants are often still treated as an easily replaceable human resource. They are generally picked according to their typing skills, their ability to use Microsoft Office, and their looks. They should also preferably be either quite junior, to not expect a high salary, or quite senior, to not risk getting pregnant. I once heard a manager reassuringly announce to his staff that the thirty-year-old assistant he was hiring was single and had cats, and would thus be unlikely to get pregnant anytime soon.
I know of few companies where the short-sighted hiring of underqualified assistants, or prevention of upward mobility for assistants, was left behind in the twentieth century – where it belongs. Even when the company culture supposedly promotes advancement for all office staff, it frequently makes an exception for administrative assistants. Again, I wonder if this would be the case if these roles were not held by women 90% of the time. We all know that women are still generally less inclined to lean in, and that they are more likely to choose roles that are low enough on the social ladder to provide flexibility, allowing them to be mothers as well as breadwinners.
Being an assistant is a valid and valuable choice for many individuals, and they should be treated with the respect and appreciation they deserve. They should also be paid according to their true value to the company, which is rarely the case. Assistants are essential to the proper running of absolutely every organisation, group, or corporation. Nonetheless, there are also many assistants who aspire to move on to other roles in the company. By learning unique skills as part of their role, and by being particularly observant, they extend their knowledge about the organisation beyond what is required of them. These assistants should have the same opportunities to grow within an organisation as any higher-ranking colleague, from coordinators upwards. But this is still seldom practiced in companies across the globe.
Today, as I am taking a much-needed creative break from money-earning jobs once again, I can only hope that I will not have to go back to being an assistant in the future… not because I think poorly of them (or us), but rather because the world around still looks down on, and truly underestimates these essential professionals.
*“Administrative Professionals Day (also known as Secretaries Day or Admins Day) is a day observed yearly in a small number of countries. (…) The day recognizes the work of secretaries, administrative assistants, executive assistants, personal assistants, receptionists, client services representatives, and other administrative support professionals. Typically, administrative professionals are given cards, flowers, chocolates, and lunches.”
Source : Wikipedia
A short story copyrighted by Midlife Reflection (c)
Midlife Reflection 