The next day, I told him that I thought about his response and that it really made me uncomfortable. I told him that I contribute to the office as much as the next person, and my worth isn’t any less because I’m not married. I finished by saying that I’d like to be considered for a promotion as well.

Trust me. You’ll never guess how he responded, not in a million years.

“Thanks for letting me know your feelings. Is there anything else you want to say?” he said flatly.

“Um, no,” I responded.

“Okay, great. Oh, and on your way out, Devora, can you go to the street and feed the meter by my car? You can find some change in the drawer over there.”

I was shocked. Speechless.

I felt powerless to say no to my boss’s inappropriate request.

I went home that night and had a long discussion with my parents, you know, because I don’t have a husband. After talking it through, I started reflecting on my job and whether or not I wanted to continue working there.

Just then my cousin, who’s also single, popped by. She couldn’t have come at a better time. Apparently in her office she faces a similar problem, not from her boss, but from her married coworkers. Dini plopped herself on the couch and shared that she’d been completely mortified at work earlier that day. “It’s the marrieds against the singles at my office. It’s seriously crazy. My supervisors are all married, and they’re so disgusting toward me.

“It’s like an underlying attitude that people who are married are more capable, competent, and deserve to be paid more,” she continued. “Why? I put in the same time and effort as everyone else. Why am I their equal in effort, but not in their recognition?”

Finally, someone understood me!

But as we spoke, I realized there was no point in my trying to advocate for myself or in trying to change anything. This type of treatment towards singles is the norm.

No one’s interested in my opinions. When I suggest ideas, I’m ignored. When I speak up, I’m not taken seriously.

Only now, after reflecting on the last three years, did I realize that all of this had really taken its toll, and I was starting to lose my self-confidence.

Institutionalized

Starting in his early elementary years, one of our children, Shalom, didn’t seem to be happy at school. Based on conversations with his teachers and our own observations, we realized he was being bullied. And that began our years-long journey of trying everything we could to help our child.

We talked to teachers. We talked to administrators. We talked to the school social worker. We sent our son to therapy.

There would be small bouts of improvement here and there, but nothing substantial. Most of the improvements were short-lived. I believe the teachers sincerely wanted to help. But there’s only so much one person running a classroom of 20-something kids can do without the support of the administration. We found that the root of many of the problems was the lack of justice within the school, both in and out of the classroom. It boiled down to the “haves and have nots.” The kids with affluent parents could do whatever they wanted. “Trouble” would somehow only be the fault of the kid receiving a scholarship.

Of course, no one would actually say this outright. But the administration always seemed to find ways to blame Shalom for “becoming a victim.”

Once, in fifth grade, a teacher organized a bowling party for Chanukah. We gave Shalom a cell phone so he could call us to pick him up when it was over. Some of the kids got the number and as we were driving to the bowling alley, they prank-called Shalom. They were laughing in the background as they said horrible things to our son.

I started crying, and when we arrived, I got out of the car and started yelling at a few of the boys involved. The rebbi came running out and tried to calm the situation. We spent the next number of days on the phone with the principal and school social worker. Shalom was suspended! According to the school, everyone involved had to be suspended. Yet only one other boy from that group actually got suspended; all those who were sons of board members somehow got away clean.

At the end of the school year, the rebbi left the school. He’d been there almost 20 years. I don’t know why for sure, but I can’t help but think back to the experiences he witnessed with my son and wonder if he left in protest over the school’s mishandling of our son’s situation.

Many of my friends who were also recipients of scholarships experienced similar treatment. The message was: If you pay full tuition and you’re someone important, you matter. If not, we’ll accept your kid, but your feedback, opinions, and concerns aren’t valued.

We finally made a decision to leave the community after many years. In our new community and school system, our kids are thriving, baruch Hashem. I have zero regrets for leaving. It was the best thing I’ve ever done for my family.

It Looks Like This

For several years now, my marketing team at work has been working with Sam, a client who’s responsible for a large part of our revenue. Taking care of Sam consists of meeting all his business needs, as well as feeding his ego. We’re used to this type of client, as those who are successful often develop an ego, but Sam was different from the others. Past clients were nice at least, saying thank you and appreciating our work. But Sam was outright obnoxious, talking down to everyone.

He also took a tremendous amount of our time, making us redo projects again and again, and was hyperfocused on unimportant corrections. It almost seemed like he wanted to intentionally waste our time. He would give us marketing advice without any background and try to tell us how to do our job. Maybe he was just very lonely — he’d divorced three times — and keeping us hustling for him gave him something to do.

Suffice it to say, no one on our team enjoyed working with Sam or really wanted anything to do with him. But year after year, we worked with Sam, fulfilling his every request. It honestly made us feel used, but sometimes these types of things come with the territory, so we all dealt with it.

That is until one day, when things really got ugly. We’d just worked on a huge marketing project for Sam. It literally took us a month straight, and we all worked overtime just to reach his deadline. Well, D-day arrived and Sam strutted into our office, settling down and awaiting our presentation. We got up, gave it our all, and shared with him the new plan that we’d created, including a full sketch of print and digital ads. We were pretty proud of ourselves. We’d worked really hard, but we’d created a great product.

But Sam didn’t think so. In fact, he hated it. I’m not sure who on our team was more shocked when Sam walked up to the front of the room and knocked our diagrams onto the floor in a rage. He screamed that he was appalled by our work and walked out.

We were stunned. After about a minute of silence, I spoke up. “We need to talk to Rachel [our boss]. We can’t go on like this, or at least I can’t,” I admitted. “I know this is what’s normal around here, but it shouldn’t be. We don’t deserve to be treated like this. We’re more valuable to this organization than Sam.”

I wasn’t too surprised that everyone agreed. We headed straight to Rachel’s office to explain what had transpired.

Rachel had been sitting in her office, drinking a coffee, when all of us piled in. “We can’t do it anymore,” I stammered. I knew I was responding out of pure emotion and little composure, but I couldn’t help myself. “We can’t continue to work with Sam.” Everyone nodded in agreement. We explained the entire scene, the month of work, the awesome pitch, and then his outburst.

Rachel was silent. She looked down at her desk and seemed deep in thought for a long minute.

Then she finally responded. “There is no question that I’m upset and disappointed to hear how Sam reacted today during the presentation. I’m not surprised,” she admitted. “I know how difficult it has been for you all to please him, and I know how each and every one of you have bent over backward over the years to try to do so.”

You could almost hear the sigh of relief from the team in the room.

“I want to know more. I want each of you to detail the specific experiences you’ve had with Sam and steps you’ve taken to try to improve the situation. We all know he hasn’t taken many steps to try to improve his relationship with us.”

The laughter in the room, which was mixed with a tinge of nervousness, reflected our appreciation of being understood.

“I’m asking you each to think about this and put together something to share with me. Let’s meet at the end of the week. And then we’ll put our heads together and see if there are any last steps we can take to rectify this, or if this means it’s time to say goodbye to Sam.”

We scheduled the upcoming meeting in our phones, thanked Rachel, and turned to leave with more straightened shoulders than before when we had first entered the room. As I reached the door to walk out, Rachel said something else that taught me what leadership is all about.

“Just one more thing,” Rachel said. “I want to tell you how much I appreciate that you all came to talk to me about this, and that you felt safe enough to bring up such an uncomfortable issue. Each of you is way more important to me than any one single client. I’m proud of our team, and please know that I’m here to support you. My door is always open.”

I felt like I could tackle any client after hearing that.

Well, any client except Sam.

HELP!

Improving the psychological safety of our schools, organizations, and institutions is about changing the culture, and giving people the confidence to speak up.

Here’s what to do if you’re in a psychologically unsafe environment:

• Find a mentor, peer, or mental health professional you can confide in. It’s important not to allow your feelings to fester. Having an outsider provide perspective is essential in brainstorming solutions.
• Speak up. Breaking the silence and calling out the behavior will begin to draw attention to the problem. Say things like, “This approach makes me uncomfortable,” “I’d like to offer a different perspective,” or “I feel that my viewpoint isn’t being heard.”
• Take notes and save emails. Document wrongful situations in case they are needed as proof later.

Seek professional help if a psychologically unsafe environment turns toxic or physically unsafe.

HELP!

Improving the psychological safety of our schools, organizations, and institutions is about changing the culture, and giving people the confidence to speak up.

Here’s what to do if you’re in a psychologically unsafe environment:

• Find a mentor, peer, or mental health professional you can confide in. It’s important not to allow your feelings to fester. Having an outsider provide perspective is essential in brainstorming solutions.
• Speak up. Breaking the silence and calling out the behavior will begin to draw attention to the problem. Say things like, “This approach makes me uncomfortable,” “I’d like to offer a different perspective,” or “I feel that my viewpoint isn’t being heard.”
• Take notes and save emails. Document wrongful situations in case they are needed as proof later.

Seek professional help if a psychologically unsafe environment turns toxic or physically unsafe.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 743)