It's 10 pm do you know where your children are? Well, if your child is a slave to corporate America, chances are the answer to that question is at the office. Or, at the very least, reviewing documents from home, obsessively checking her blackberry, freaking out about an upcoming assignment, a recently finished task or low billable hours, or drinking heavily to forget about work altogether. What they are not doing is getting their beauty rest or heading out somewhere to meet your future son-in-law. While some of us spent long hours in the library in graduate school to get the degree that would land us the dream job (which we soon learned was actually a nightmare…the American Dream, my ass...) and secured awesome externships or summer jobs to gain the experience that would make us oh so valuable to an occupation we would soon reconsider, others were able to spend time at the gym, perfect their tan, learn about the latest fashions, and well, just sleep. We, the “career ladies” if you will, judge these girls relentlessly. Mostly out of envy rather than malice. There is more to life than being pretty and getting a man after all! (Why, thank you feminists for that wise declaration.) And yet, by the time we emerge from our graduate school caves, we come to learn our youth has somehow passed us by and in return we have a degree that stands for equal opportunities and blah, blah, blah. While to save face I insist that I’m too smart to have just a “job” (a statement that doesn't even make sense since I know many intelligent people who went other (better?) routes in life - but that's the thing about saving face - and a statement that is easily countered by the fact that I chose to make the not so smart decision to go to law school in the first place), the only people who seem to believe how smart I am appear to be of the male gender, and I've learned that despite what we were taught when we were younger, smart (generally) isn't sexy after all. No man (vast generalization) wants to date a woman who is potentially smarter and more successful than he is (and when using smart as a dirty word, women in suits top the list as culprits). I’d love to be wrong about this, but I could give you a list of men who, while somewhat embarrassed to admit it, would confirm that keeping your salary and occupation guarded will likely increase your chances of getting asked out on a date. (hmm, that sounds like an interesting experiment). It is the rare man who is secure enough in his manhood to let the woman be his sugar mama. It is rarer still that this man doesn't find himself resenting his "successful" partner, and straying. So, fine, you might think a successful (if we're discussing monetary success) woman should date men of equal (monetary) success. The quintessential power couple, so to speak. That makes sense except that the stereotypical (I said stereotypical) successful man wants a trophy wife. It's hard to be a trophy wife when you work 60-100 hours a week. Plus, stress lines and 10pm take out at the office don’t lend themselves to good arm candy.
Now, to be fair, I do believe there is more to life than “being pretty and getting a man”, I’m simply reporting observations. And, despite many of my statements above which would make Susan B. Anthony turn over in her grave, if I went back in time I’m sure my stubborn self would do it all over again because there is also a lot to say for challenging work, for solving problems, for proving yourself, for accomplishing things other people perhaps could not, for money in the bank, for a job title most view as evidence of tangible success, for brushing off your shoulder with a smug look when you inform some idiot that you are a lawyer and watching them just shut the hell up. Instead what I’m suggesting (I think, maybe) is that there tends to be a risk of a trade-off in accomplishing these things and it is often a trade-off we are not prepared for or even aware of until after the fact. And, it isn’t just the whole landing a man thing (although it seems there is often a correlation between success and singledom), it is happiness in general. A recent study cited in the ABA Journal revealed that the profile of the unhappiest worker was a 42 year old unmarried woman who was likely a lawyer or a doctor. Oh wait, a key word there is still unmarried. So maybe it is about landing a man. Well super duper. This all sounds encouraging. Although, I do hope no one was paid to reach such an obvious conclusion.
So let’s fast forward to graduation, once we've finished pursuing that higher education, real life starts. When you're a waitress, a teacher, or someone working one of those elusive 9-5’s (rumor has it they still exist), presumably you have time to go to the gym, to put on makeup, to actually give a damn about your appearance. You get to show up at these crazy things called happy hours (happy what now?), where men in suits can oggle at you and buy you drinks. You get to join activities and organizations, attend events, cultivate interests, meet new people, have a life. For those of us who have earned those coveted capital letters after our name and landed those sought after positions in big law, finance or the like, the gym becomes just another bill we pay, and often something we don't see for months at a time - a fat tax, if you will. We spend the majority of our day sitting at our desks, ordering take-out or visiting the vending machine for dinner, and relying on near illegal amounts of caffeine (not sleep) to function. We also spend our days stressing about everything. My mother recently informed me that stress makes you fat. Well, fantastic. Add it to the list. Plus by the time we've earned our success, we're old. And, I suppose the stress lines make us look older. And by all means, let’s not just focus on the more superficial results of success. Long hours, lack of sleep and panic attacks are simply not healthy. (Who knew?) We're literally working ourselves to death - and for what? Prestige? Prestige gets old real quick, especially if you're a female. Friends and family become increasingly less impressed with your job title and more concerned with your bare ring finger. They're not interested in your promotion, the possibility of partner track or an interesting new assignment. They only want to know who you're dating and why you are not concerned about the fact that by the time you have kids, if you manage to have them at all, all your friend’s children will be old enough to babysit (which doesn't seem like a particularly bad arrangement to me, but what do I know). And whether you personally considered this a problem yourself, people will soon convince you it is one. Some may console you with the notion that you'll meet someone soon and it happens when you're not looking, which may just be the most absurd expression of all time -if you’re single and 30, chances are you’re always looking, unless of course you’ve given up completely which I’m not sure (although can’t be certain) is what they’re recommending. Some may suggest you try to put yourself out there. Oh okay. Sure. Out where? Some may be too uncomfortable to respond and simply change the subject back to themselves, and their socially acceptable lifestyle. Some (perhaps the only ones offering a practical solution) may offer to help draft your suicide note.
And, once you've been in the trenches for more than a minute you come to realize you are actually punished for your single status at work as well. The judgment is literally everywhere you go. Those coworkers with families are permitted to leave "early" for their child's plays, for an anniversary dinner, for family time in general and those of us without are expected to pick up the slack, because I mean what could we possibly have to get out of here for anyway. It turns out that happy hours and blind dates are not viewed with the same level of importance as a child with the flu (though I can't imagine why). So, the cycle continues. You can understand now that when I express to certain people that I fear I'm doomed, they no longer bother arguing this conclusion.
So, here’s where I should probably come up with some brilliant solution to the problems outlined above, but I don’t have one. If I did, I wouldn’t be writing a blog from the office on a Thursday night with my unused gym bag sitting beside me. This was the case against higher education folks, though I welcome your counter arguments. Indeed, I’m desperately hopeful that there are plenty, I’m just too tired to think of any right now.
