Left: Our Unit Director--a woman who is an athlete and amazing cook--won the contest with her lovely and apparently tasty tower of miniature creme puffs. These attractive, high maintenance nuggets probably have a fancy French name I have since made a point to forget.
In the middle of a very busy stressful week, our boss and the marketing person in another area of the business, asked if we all didn't want to participate in a Dessert Contest.
I was annoyed. Very annoyed.
For one thing, a couple of the people I work with are dieting. Since I am the token vegetarian in the organization, I am left out or forgotten on a regular basis and know what a rude thing this is. I also know how it feels to smile and pretend it doesn't matter, etc., etc..
For another thing--it feels like vaguely insulting. We work very hard, and are not well paid. Asking us to make and bring food, and making it part of esprit d'corps, seems just plain Scrooge-like. Is my boss' boss, the V.P. going to shop and give up an evening to bake?! (Or will he make his wife do it?!) 30 years after the feminist revolution I smell something in the kitchen, and it isn't all sweetness.
Here's to a fluffy, delicious, indigestible double standard. The leader of our unit won the contest for us. Congratulations! (Sort-of).