Working with all men has its ups and downs.  When I was younger and single being the only woman around was kind of fun.  I played the fun and girly card even though that was totally outside my real personality.  If I needed help with something all I had to do was flick my hair over my shoulder and bat my little eyelashes and help would come running my way.  The younger guys at work wanted to set me up on dates with their single friends who were going through divorces (no rebound relationships for me, thank you) and the older guys wanted to set me up with their sons (um, no.  I’m all too familiar with that saying “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree”).  After several years of working at my company, I got laid off for about a year and a half before I was asked to come back to work.  On my eighteen-month vacation, I got married so when I went back to work I knew that I would have to change.

 The transition from being the cute, single girl to old married woman was hard.  I wasn’t sure how to act for a while since I was used to acting a certain way at work.  When I went back to work I left my old work self in the dust.   Now that I was married, I didn’t want to be offered dates or relationship advice like I was in the past so I returned to work as the complete opposite as what I left a year and a half earlier.  The guys were shocked at the sudden cold shoulder it seemed like I was giving them.  I was just trying to see where I fit in now that my marital status had changed.  Before the layoff, I let the older guys put their arm around me as they would have their daughters, but when I was rehired, I wouldn’t let anyone touch me.  I wasn’t bitchy about it; I would just stand further away to give myself more personal space.  My new attitude was a bit of a shock to my coworkers.  I was trying to avoid unwanted advances that I had run across before I got married but in the process was perceived as being icy. 

 Being icy at work took a tremendous amount of energy.  I started dreading my job and the worst part about it was that I started taking that personality home with me.  I had to make another personality change so I went for something drastic.  I decided that it was high time that I show up at work as myself.  Being myself is, of course, so much easier for me to do but it threw the guys for a loop.  Out of no where “myself” showed up to work as a quiet, down-to-earth person wanting to be seen as an equal.  After the guys got used to the new real me, I found that I was viewed as much more than an equal.  I was being used as their go-to-girl for all things woman.

 The way that my new role started was by me just listening to what the guys were saying about what they were getting their wives last Christmas.  One guy’s wife did her own shopping for him.  She used to give him a list of things she might want but he never used the list and went out on his own.  After a few years of getting vacuum cleaners (yup, she got a vacuum cleaner three years in a row), she would go shopping for herself and make him wrap it.  Another guy said that his wife told him that she didn’t want anything for Christmas and he was going to happily oblige her.  He said that not getting her anything was going to take a huge burden off of him by getting to avoid the crowds in the stores.  I felt so bad for these women that I felt I had to say something.

 “No, no, no,” I said spinning around in my chair.  “You will surprise your wives this year.  You will do something different.  You will do something special.  And most of all, you will like it.”

 The guys looked at each other for a second.  “But my wife said she didn’t want anything.”

 “Yes she does,” I said.  “When a woman says that you shouldn’t get her anything is womanspeak for ‘use your imagination, surprise me, and it had better be good’.  What do you think she would want?”

 My coworker crinkled his eyebrows, racking his brain for something.  “I don’t know what she would want.  She doesn’t really need anything and she never really asks for anything.  All she does is stay home with the kids all day and complain to her sister on the phone about how she never has any time to herself.”

 “Hello!” I said.  “Get her a gift certificate for a day spa.  You’ll be the hero for a month.”

 “But my wife already finished her shopping for herself,” the other guy said.

 “Fine, but you still should surprise her with something.  Can you think of anything she’s ever asked for that you haven’t gotten her?”

 His eyes lit up.  “Yeah, actually there is.  Sometimes she talks about having her grandmother’s wedding ring made into a necklace.”

 “Do it,” I said.

 Both of the guys took my advice, which secretly thrilled me since I didn’t figure they would.  After Christmas they both told me their wives reactions to what they had done for them and how happy they were with their gifts.  From then on, when they have a question about women they come running to me.  I feel like I’ve helped them understand women a lot better in the past year.  I’ve helped decode things their wives have said in fights with them and have explained what it means when a woman says she has nothing to wear despite the fact that she’s got a closet overflowing with clothes.  But this past week I think that I’ve done my best work yet.

 Wednesday, both guys came to work looking tired and mad.  It didn’t take long for them to start talking about their nights.

 “Yeah, it’s that ‘special time’ again.”

“For you too?  Man, last night was the worst!  She just wouldn’t leave me be.  I know I didn’t do anything wrong but she just started in on my like I was the cause of all her problems and she doesn’t even have problems, well at least she didn’t before last night.”

“Well, at least all your kids are boys.  I'm surrounded by women in my house.  I’m just glad that the youngest one hasn’t started yet but when she does I’m screwed.”

“Um,” I broke into their conversation.  “Are you guys talking about PMS?”

“Oh yeah!”

“It’s not their fault,” I said.

“Well, they’re the ones picking the fights.”

“But it’s not like they want to.  They don’t want to feel that way and they can’t help how they feel when they get like that.”  I gave them a little lesson in hormones and how it really feels to be on the inside of a woman’s brain and body when PMS attacks.

“But they could just keep their mouths shut,” they protested.

“Fine, but when the Saints lose do you keep your mouths shut?  No.  I have to sit here listening to you guys bitch and moan for a whole week about how they could have played better.  You guys are in such a foul mood when they lose that I don’t want to be in the same room as you.  Now, are you going to tell me that being in that bad mood is your fault?”

“No,” they both said.

“So, even if you tried to be in a good mood, could you?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because the Saints lost.”

“Okay, and if your wife tried to cheer you up, could she?”

“No.”

“Then why don’t you guys try to look at PMS like your wives team just lost because trust me, it feels a whole lot worse than that on the inside.”

I let the conversation drop but later that day one of they guys pulled me aside.

“Really?  It feels that bad?  What women feel during PMS is really like how I feel when the Saints lose?”

I just nodded my head.

“Wow, that’s bad!  And it happens all year round, not just during football season.”

I think I made a break through.  I think I just got one man to understand the seriousness of PMS and how his wife isn’t trying to ruin his life.

I think on Monday I’m going to try to teach him how to properly fold a towel.  Or maybe I shouldn’t push my luck just yet.