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fandomweekly2019-06-23 11:52 am
m_findlow) wrote in fandomweekly2019-06-23 11:52 am
Entry tags:
[#019] IN THE KNOW (ORIGINAL)
Theme Prompt: #019 - Stereotype
Title: In the know
Fandom: Original
Rating/Warnings: PG
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 799 words
Summary: The things she could tell them if they only let her in.
That overwhelming sense of trepidation hit her as soon as she entered the room. Should've gotten here later, she thought, to avoid the public mingling. She liked seminars, but the small talk she could do without.
A waiter was quick to spot her and offer her a drink. His tray had an array of alcoholic choices, but she went for the sparkling water. She lifted it to her lips and took a sip as her eyes slowly scanned the room looking for prospective conversations join. As anticipated, there was a distinct lack of persons harboring more than one X chromosome.
She loitered near the door, hoping to attract new entrants, themselves looking for someone to engage, but singles made a beeline straight past her, or those that came in their twos and threes huddled together, talking over their day at work. After fifteen minutes of being stood there isolated, her confidence began to waver. She checked her watch. Shouldn't the presentation have started by now? Just how long were they supposed to hang around waiting? She was beginning to feel stupid. She was just going to have to find a group and weasel her way in; preferably one with at least one other woman.
Over in one corner were two women, sat in one of the plush little booths. From the way they held their glasses of champagne, one slender leg crossed over the other, and leaning in close to speak, she could tell they were coworkers. No doubt conspiratorially sharing gossip or their hatred for someone else they worked with. It seemed rude to try and interrupt their bitching. Venting one's frustrations at a colleague was a sport best enjoyed with those of the inner circle.
Around the room she spotted one or two more women, but each group was currently being lead by a rather boisterous man in a suit. It stopped her dead in her tracks. She didn't want to be the presumptuous cow who just butted in.
She was here because she was interested in the topic, but she couldn't deny that the networking session beforehand was something she needed to tick off her list. "Needs to build professional network and bring in new prospects," her last appraisal had read. "Essential skills for progression to associate." Of course, the person who had written that had been a man - one who would have had no trouble at all finding their place in a room like this. Had a woman formulated the criteria for career progression, ir would have simply read "keep your clients happy". Happy clients stayed. Happy clients paid their bills without complaint. Happy clients referred others in need of happiness. It was that simple. Men had to overcomplicate things, or maybe it was just an excuse to have a reason for going to play golf once a week, or to hang out and drink, patting each other on the back at their own success, but to call it networking.
Fucking glass ceiling, she thought.
She pulled out her phone, trying to disguise her solitude when a loud snatch of debate caught her ear. The universal topic of conversation at any function. Sport.
'He's fundamental to our promotion hopes next season. We should be recruiting more international players. Matt Warner has the right of it.'
'It's the lads in the middle of the park to blame,' another added. 'Zanvers would have twenty five goals under his belt if they could just get the ball up the pitch to him.'
'Warner needs to be a stronger manager and the club need to give him more money.'
She could help but laugh at the conversation. Karl Zanvers was the greatest financial drain on the club. Four years as their number one striker and he hadn't done more than give glimpses of potential. There were players in the bench that couldn't even make the first eleven who would do a better job. They should have sold Zanvers in the off season. He was worth at least three good players at his salary.
She wanted to interject and tell them. When she wasn't punching out seventy billable hours a week, she was treasurer for the club's supporter's trust. She had the inside rail. She'd dined with the club chairman and discussed the club's ability to adapt to the modern game. She'd been a passionate supporter since she was old enough to take her father's hand and be lead through those familiar stadium gates. She knew more about the game than all of them put together, and could have really given them something to think about
As one of the waiters sailed past her, she grabbed an hors d'ourve and shoved it in her mouth. But then again, what did she know? She was only a woman, after all.
Title: In the know
Fandom: Original
Rating/Warnings: PG
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 799 words
Summary: The things she could tell them if they only let her in.
That overwhelming sense of trepidation hit her as soon as she entered the room. Should've gotten here later, she thought, to avoid the public mingling. She liked seminars, but the small talk she could do without.
A waiter was quick to spot her and offer her a drink. His tray had an array of alcoholic choices, but she went for the sparkling water. She lifted it to her lips and took a sip as her eyes slowly scanned the room looking for prospective conversations join. As anticipated, there was a distinct lack of persons harboring more than one X chromosome.
She loitered near the door, hoping to attract new entrants, themselves looking for someone to engage, but singles made a beeline straight past her, or those that came in their twos and threes huddled together, talking over their day at work. After fifteen minutes of being stood there isolated, her confidence began to waver. She checked her watch. Shouldn't the presentation have started by now? Just how long were they supposed to hang around waiting? She was beginning to feel stupid. She was just going to have to find a group and weasel her way in; preferably one with at least one other woman.
Over in one corner were two women, sat in one of the plush little booths. From the way they held their glasses of champagne, one slender leg crossed over the other, and leaning in close to speak, she could tell they were coworkers. No doubt conspiratorially sharing gossip or their hatred for someone else they worked with. It seemed rude to try and interrupt their bitching. Venting one's frustrations at a colleague was a sport best enjoyed with those of the inner circle.
Around the room she spotted one or two more women, but each group was currently being lead by a rather boisterous man in a suit. It stopped her dead in her tracks. She didn't want to be the presumptuous cow who just butted in.
She was here because she was interested in the topic, but she couldn't deny that the networking session beforehand was something she needed to tick off her list. "Needs to build professional network and bring in new prospects," her last appraisal had read. "Essential skills for progression to associate." Of course, the person who had written that had been a man - one who would have had no trouble at all finding their place in a room like this. Had a woman formulated the criteria for career progression, ir would have simply read "keep your clients happy". Happy clients stayed. Happy clients paid their bills without complaint. Happy clients referred others in need of happiness. It was that simple. Men had to overcomplicate things, or maybe it was just an excuse to have a reason for going to play golf once a week, or to hang out and drink, patting each other on the back at their own success, but to call it networking.
Fucking glass ceiling, she thought.
She pulled out her phone, trying to disguise her solitude when a loud snatch of debate caught her ear. The universal topic of conversation at any function. Sport.
'He's fundamental to our promotion hopes next season. We should be recruiting more international players. Matt Warner has the right of it.'
'It's the lads in the middle of the park to blame,' another added. 'Zanvers would have twenty five goals under his belt if they could just get the ball up the pitch to him.'
'Warner needs to be a stronger manager and the club need to give him more money.'
She could help but laugh at the conversation. Karl Zanvers was the greatest financial drain on the club. Four years as their number one striker and he hadn't done more than give glimpses of potential. There were players in the bench that couldn't even make the first eleven who would do a better job. They should have sold Zanvers in the off season. He was worth at least three good players at his salary.
She wanted to interject and tell them. When she wasn't punching out seventy billable hours a week, she was treasurer for the club's supporter's trust. She had the inside rail. She'd dined with the club chairman and discussed the club's ability to adapt to the modern game. She'd been a passionate supporter since she was old enough to take her father's hand and be lead through those familiar stadium gates. She knew more about the game than all of them put together, and could have really given them something to think about
As one of the waiters sailed past her, she grabbed an hors d'ourve and shoved it in her mouth. But then again, what did she know? She was only a woman, after all.
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Nicely handled, I really feel for the main character.