The night I lost my last job at work, I went home crying with an overflowing cardboard box in my arms. This was my biggest role and the highest paying job ever. Working for the female director of a flash sale shopping website that was popular at the time.
I approached the task with giddy hope. Four months after I joined, my charismatic boss took mental health leave and did not return. She was replaced by a 26-year-old chief financial officer who immediately told me he was proudly self-sufficient.
“I'm sorry, but we don't need you here anymore,” I remember him saying coldly.
That was in 2012. I'm her 31 and I have a newfound disdain for the industry I once loved. I worked as an executive assistant to the CEO of a well-known fashion company for 10 years, but the only job I was qualified for was as someone else's right-hand man. My resume is filled with leaders to whom I have reported, most of whom have accomplished something for others but not at all what I have accomplished for myself. did not.
Later that night, I called my new boyfriend (and future husband) to tell him the news. Shortly thereafter, I fell asleep fully clothed while watching one of my favorite movies, the 1998 Mike Nichols classic Working Girl starring Melanie Griffith, Sigourney Weaver, and Harrison Ford. . The film turned 35 in December. When I put on the DVD that night, like so many times before, there was pure catharsis in a moment that felt like the end of the world. Little did I know that it would be the beginning of a whole new beginning.
In the film, Griffiths plays Tess McGill, a passionate and smart executive assistant who dreams of a career beyond serving coffee. But her life and career are suppressed by men and women who lie to her, cheat on her, and hold her back. In an early scene, she is tricked into a situation by a male colleague who thinks it is a job interview. In her place, her slimy stockbroker (Kevin Spacey) shows her a porn video.
When she lands a job in mergers and acquisitions under the beautiful and successful Katherine Parker (Weaver), she finally feels like she's being heard – even though her new leadership is more manipulative than the men. , she's not her until she realizes that unlike them, she's pretending to be something. Learning that her boss has stolen her idea, Tess pretends to be her executive and takes advantage of her situation (a skiing accident that conveniently ties up Katherine). Tess reclaims her idea of herself and finds her strength and love in the process.
The character of Tess McGill has been etched into my psyche ever since I saw her on screen when I was just eight years old. I don't know why I relate to her so much. As a child, I couldn't relate to her 80's suits with shoulder pads or the sexism she faced at work. However, there was one connection between this movie and me. I went to school with a classmate whose beautiful vine-covered townhouse on the corner of Gramercy Park was the set of Katherine Parker's home.
Little did I know that years later, I would empathize with Tess and, ultimately, the struggles of working in a powerful world that would shut me out.
When I started what I thought would be my career, I felt empowered at first. I was the gatekeeper, the person people came to to do things. I wore my high heels and pencil skirt like a proud uniform. Two years after he got his first big job, news broke that he was about to be laid off and I thought my role was too important to be affected. I was wrong. They eliminated my position and gave it to two interns who were paid half my salary.
At my next job, at another fashion brand, I spent a weekend in West Palm Beach, Florida, reporting to two much older white men who called me “Hon.” They always fired me, and when I asked for more responsibility, they tried to appease me by announcing that I could attend meetings. Excited by this, I was handed a yellow legal pad and instructed to “never speak.” Take notes of everything we said. ” On another occasion, as I was checking my boss's email, as specifically instructed by her boss, a female co-worker said to me, “I feel bad for Blake. She thinks she has value here.'' ” to which he replied, “LOL.”
By that time, many illusions about this industry and my role in it had faded. I wrote a personal blog on the weekend. Somewhere in my head I dreamed of becoming a writer, but in reality it wasn't something I would enjoy. I needed a big salary to pay my rent and support myself as a single woman, so I convinced myself that working for a large company was essential to my personal life and career. Although the idea seemed reasonable, it kept me stagnant and prevented me from trying to find my true purpose.
The words “you are not needed here” from my last fashion boss have finally come to light.
I was reminded of one of my favorite female movie characters, Tess, who always lingered in the corner of my imagination. She provided a vision of what can be achieved if you are not afraid of failure or backlash. Her words echoed in her head as she watched the movie again. One line in particular when she retorts to her best friend who tells her to stop living her fantasies.
“I'm not going to spend the rest of my life not getting anything out of it by following rules that have nothing to do with the rules I set,” says Tess.
By the end, Tess confesses the truth to her boyfriend and business partner Jack, who helps her pitch her innovative idea to powerful tycoon Oren Trask (Philip Bosco). In the process, Tess exposes her own boss. Despite her manipulation, Oren remains impressed.
“You really have fire in your belly,” Oren says before offering her a job at his company.
“There's something in my stomach, I think it's a nervous stiffness,'' Tess answered.
I had never lied about my identity or anything as cinematic as “Working Girl,” but the concept resonated. A fire was kindled in my belly for something more for myself. I finally acknowledged the unfulfilled passion that had been dormant for so long. I wanted to be a writer, but I always struggled with fear of failure and lack of self-confidence.
From helping others to implementing my ideas on my own terms, Tess' career trajectory has inspired me to step out of my little box and strive for more. He gave it to me.
When Tess comes up with a life-changing idea, it's to buy a radio station into the multi-million dollar company Trask. The idea came to me while reading the Wall Street Journal during my daily commute to Manhattan on the Staten Island Ferry. Even as a young girl, this caught my eye. Several decades have passed since then, and I often read newspapers looking for inspiring articles. When you find something that catches your eye, a clear visual of Tess doing the same thing emerges. In the film's final moments, Tess arrives at her new job, assuming she is an assistant again. Realizing that her corner office is hers, she gets excited as Carly Simon's “Let the River Run” plays and the camera rolls to show the Statue of Liberty. while placing her feet on her new desk.
This scene made me dream big and served as an inspirational vision board. The corporate world is now far away from me. It gave me more stability in my day-to-day life, and certainly more money, but the feeling I get when I see my byline in an article makes me feel like Tess at the end of Working Girl. It makes me feel good.
I still regularly walk past the Gramercy Park townhouse that was once part of the set for “Working Girl.” It's a reminder that 35 years later, this movie still has a strong influence on my life.
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