Ah, December! The month of office parties and corporate gatherings. Small or large, every company feels obligated to do something: sandwiches from a nearby deli with soda in plastic cups, or formal cocktails and fancy dinners – whatever fits the budget (frequently, way over budget).
On Monday I had to take part in my client's festivities. The company is small, but has a lot of external relations (bankers, financiers, big-time suppliers, shippers, brokers, lawyers, consultants). So, the gathering turned out to be pretty significant. As their acting CFO I am viewed as an insider and, therefore, was placed at the head of the "finance and legal" table. Funny! Other tables – operations, logistics, etc. were vividly mixed-gendered. At my table – I was the only woman.
"But no matter, no matter!" As all of us – females of corporate finance, I've been working in the predominantly testosterone environment my entire career. I know how men operate and expect them eventually, after obligatory discussions of each other's success, politics, economy, and the stock market, to fall into a football patter. And even though I myself find basketball and tennis far more exciting (and, as my readers know, prefer arts altogether), I am ready. It's not really that difficult – here, in NYC, they are predominantly Giants' fans. All it takes is to remember few key names and events, and they feel like you are "one of the boys."
So, here we are, in the third hour of the event, with enough liquor in all of them to knock a team of stevedores to the ground (ever since the martini lunches have become their industry's long-gone past, the thirsty bankers make up for them in the evenings), when the Giants sneak their way into the conversation. Only this time around, there is a twist – a politely contained and quiet tiff erupts over Eli Manning.
You see, there is this guy, second from me on the left, in his early sixties, who looks like the Nazi who got the scepter's head burnt into his palm in "Raiders of the Lost Ark." Only 30 minutes ago he said that the best presidential candidate right now was Michele Bachmann, which made me bit my tongue so hard to prevent a spontaneous response, I bled a little in my mouth. Now he is arguing with other neighboring boys, telling them how much he hates Eli, and the way he sits on the side, and his smile, and his hat, etc., etc. The fact that he is one of the only three Giants' players ever to be named a Super Bowl MVP apparently means nothing.
Let me tell you, I don't really give a rat's ass about either of the Manning brothers. It's the underlying principle that's important to me. So, I look the man in the eyes through his round glasses and say, "Many conservative men don't like Eli Manning, because he looks like a goofy high-schooler." "Yes, and that stupid grin of his," says the man. And I say, "But that look, and that grin, and that hat – they have nothing to do with his performance on the field." The conversation ended right then and there.
More than a year ago, I finished my post "He Looks Like an Accountant…" by saying that young crowd at rock concerts don't believe that I am a career CFO. The truth is that, unless I am introduced as one, nobody ever guesses it. Moreover, there is always an element of surprise in people's reaction, when they learn about my profession. It doesn't matter that I am very good at it and have a book on the subject coming out, I don't come off as "corporate finance," at least not by American standards. I am not tall, not skinny; I don't have the fake gloss all over me. And that crazy hair I could never tame! I am acutely aware of this discrepancy with people's expectations. That's why "CFO Techniques" doesn't have my picture on the back cover – I don't want to confuse people.
The Frustrated CFO 