Sometimes I really hate my job.
Every so often, someone walks through the doors of my humble workplace, takes one look at me, sniffs disdainfully, and shuffles back to speak reverently to the doctor.
Does the fact that my name doesn’t have a “Dr.” attached to it make me any less of a human being? Does it mean that I am somehow unworthy of your attention?
It must. It must because that is how I am treated more frequently than is acceptable.
I’m convinced that people are intrinsically of equal worth. A life is a life is a life. Sure, we’re different. Sure, some people are handicapable. But the bottom line is this:
We’re all human and should be treated decently by each other.
So when I am confronted by someone who believes me to be a complete idiot because I am the front office girl without a “Dr.” attached to my name, I get rather heated about it.
To them, I will always be “just a secretary.”
I am a college-educated person. I am mildly intelligent. My vocabulary is more expansive than most. I believe I am skilled at most everything I do.
I am a secretary.
I am a secretary because it pays the bills.
But being a secretary has defined my worth. It has said to society that I am lesser. That I am unintelligent and unlearned. That I am merely a paper pusher, a doorstop for the doctors I work for.
Without me, this place couldn’t run.
Secretaries are the glue that hold businesses together. We are important. We are needed.
Please treat me like I actually know what I’m doing. Trust me, I’ve worked this job long enough to know what’s what.
If you insist on speaking to the doctor after you’ve spoken to me about something that falls within the aspect of my work, please don’t be surprised when the doctor repeats everything I just said to you.
Also, I am more than just a secretary. Just like you are more than what you do. What we do may define us, but it doesn’t have to be all of who we are. Some jobs are temporary, a means to an end much greater than what is today.
My today will not be my tomorrow, and I won’t be a secretary forever.