MA Bell: The United Nations

Old School Dallas, Tx.

I had only worked a few days before the end of 1973.  But I had seen enough to form my opinions on some of the people I was working with.  There seemed to be two different sets of rules in the office—one for the "elders" and one for the young people.  I don't think that I ever worked with so many judgmental people over 35 years of working.  Some of them were flat out rude and were never rebuffed for any of the things spewed out of their mouths.  There was a lot of tension in the office caused by that.  Most of the office employees had worked together for a long time, and that was the problem.  The office supervisor was part of that group and couldn't or wouldn't stand up to them, a little of both, really.

Two of the young people in the office were African Americans, but back then, they were referred to as blacks, which was not a demeaning term.  One of the nastiest women in the office, Peggy, would refer to them as "colored girls."  But she did it in front of them.  "Oh, that "little colored" girl did," or "I gave it to that "little colored girl."  When she did it, she caused mayhem.  The two girls were offended, and rightfully so.  And then there would be a verbal confrontation.  It was uncomfortable.  The supervisor should have been compelled to stop it and handle the problem started by her long-time co-worker.  But she didn't.  She would just say that the woman didn't mean it, that she was just older and used to talking that way. That was no excuse for ignorance.  Over time, it stopped, but only because one of the girls contacted an EEO representative.

There were four of us that started hanging around together, all in the young group.  I called our little group, The United Nations.  We had one black girl, one brown girl, one white girl, and one young white boy.  (White males were considered a minority if they worked in an office type of function.)
We knew that it was aggravating the old south mentality.  But it was funny.  Loretta was the black girl, Mary was the brown girl, I was the white girl, and Kent was the white boy.  I was called into the manager's office by Faye and told that I shouldn't hang around with "those others."  I was upsetting the white woman.  I told Faye that I was born in Washington, DC, and that I didn't have a problem with anyone's color.  I told her the only problem I had was having to work around many prejudiced old white women—the end of the conversation.

Months down the road after I moved into my own place, my association with others seemed to be a cry for help from the lifers.  It was after that conversation that some of the people decided to "save me."  According to Google; 
Christians say that when someone gets “saved,” it means they have personally and deliberately determined to turn from their past sinful ways and put their trust in Jesus Christ. The Bible identifies Jesus Christ as the Son of God, who will “save” them from everlasting punishment in Hell (the place of eternal torment) after they die.  a religious ritual, mostly of Baptist or Christian beliefs.  I guess I was a bad person because I was 22 and I wore short skirts, and I had colorful friends.  My boss just aggravated the ++++ out of me about it.  It shouldn't have even been a discussion.  She even showed up at my house one day, one Sunday, knocking on my door. I didn't give her my address; she got it out of my personal file.  I didn't answer the door.

No offense to anyone.  I was mostly raised in the north.  I never had people knocking on the door, trying to sell religion or save me.  It completely turned me off of structured religion.  I was grown, big enough to make my own decisions about life, love, and religion.  I keep my beliefs to myself, and I am comfortable with that.  And I would never force my beliefs on another person and expect them to do as I do—end of that.

Faye showed up a few more times uninvited.  I never let her in.  One day, she said she had been coming to my house to take me to church.  I told her that I was aware of that and I had no interest.  She kept bugging me, and I finally told her that she couldn't take a hint to leave me alone since she was so dumb.  I told her I was there to work, not to worry about going to church.

I have gotten ahead of myself, back to the end of 73.  The point is that I had figured out most of the people in a concise period of time.  And I wasn't wrong; I didn't rush to judgment.  It was going to be difficult working in that office with those women.  I was sure of that.  But I had to stick with this job, bad or good.  It wouldn't be the last time in my life that I had to work in a bad environment.  But later on, I would find a tool to help me keep my sanity and deal with people like this.  It was just too early, and I didn't know a lot about the company yet.  It wouldn't take me too long to figure things out and learn the art of self-preservation and defense.  

Ma Bell was a good place to work; they valued their employees back then.  Not now.  It was the kind of place that you could work for until you retired.  They valued family, and they valued generations of family members working for them.  Not now.  I would only stay in that office until I had enough time to transfer to another department.  

Right now, I had to concentrate on getting out of my mom's house and getting a car.  That was my priority.  Hopefully, I would be able to do that in the new year.  1974 was going to bring a lot of changes for me and my kids, good changes.  !973 in my rearview mirror was a good thing.