everything has changed.
I’m too nervous to eat, so I get dressed and pick up my phone to text Joe.
I need to decide what to do about the situation with the guys yesterday. I’m going to go talk to the chief.
After I hit send, I purposely set the phone down on my dresser, and step out of my room without it. I can’t talk to him right now. My space is on the opposite side of the building from the guys’ quarters, and sometimes I resent the isolation, but right now I’m grateful for it.
I know Chief is usually in his office at this time in the morning so it’s time to deal with this head on.
His door is half open and I knock on the door jamb.
“Hey McNeill, what’s up?”
“Got a minute, Chief?”
“Sure.” He pushes away from his computer.
“Mind if I close the door?”
His eyebrows raise but he gestures his approval, so I gently shut it.
“What’s up?”
My hands are already twisting together and I look down to gather my courage. “There was an incident in the day room yesterday I need to tell you about.”
“Okay. Have a seat,” he says.
I lower myself into the chair and grasp my knees to keep my nervous hands still.
“I was in the hallway posting the visitor schedule on the board and I overheard a conversation about me, and it was really ugly, sir.”
“I see. Can you tell me what was said?”
I nod and swallow hard. “I was referred to as a bitch, and a man–eater.”
“That’s wrong and I’m not minimizing your feelings about this, but I have to ask . . . you know how the guys are, right? They give each other shit all the time.”
“But they do that to each other, face-to-face, not shit on someone who isn’t there. On top of that there was something else said that really hurt me personally . . .”
“You mean something worse than bitch and man-eater?” he asks, seeming very uneasy.
I nod. “They said that I made my husband gay.” I avert my gaze again.
“Damn,” he mutters.
“I had no idea how they really felt about me, but it makes me wonder if they’d have my back if we were on a call and things went south. Did you see that article the L.A. Times did earlier this year about hostility toward women in the firefighting profession? It sure explains why we’re still only three percent of the force.”
“I did,” he sighs, shaking his head.
He swivels his chair sideways as he studies the wall. I’ve seen him do this before when considering a difficult issue, so I know to just be patient as he chews on the end of his glasses and rubs his hands over his eyes.
“Who was it?”
“Bradley, Scott, and Joe.”
Chief’s gaze jerks over to mine, and his eyes narrow. “Joe?” He appears particularly displeased to hear his lieutenant mentioned.
“Well they were taunting Joe about being nice to me, but he didn’t stop or correct them when they talked serious shit about me.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that, McNeill. Are they aware you overheard all of this?”
I feel my cheeks heat up. “Joe is aware. He saw that I was there just as they finished talking about me. I don’t think Scott and Bradley had any idea.”
“Well, I’m glad you brought this to my attention. That isn’t anything we tolerate here. I’m going to call them in. Are you okay with that?”
I nod. I know in my gut that their reaction to being called out on what they said will have a huge influence in my decision whether to stay or go.
After he puts the call out for the three men, it only takes a couple of minutes for Bobo to show up, with Scott right behind him. I don’t make eye contact with them as they take their seats. When Joe walks through the door it takes everything I have not to look at him and there’s a scramble since the room is short a chair, but he insists on standing.
Chief motions for him to close the door, then clears his throat.
“I called you here for a serious matter. McNeill overheard an extremely offensive conversation about her between you knuckleheads
I’m too nervous to eat, so I get dressed and pick up my phone to text Joe.
I need to decide what to do about the situation with the guys yesterday. I’m going to go talk to the chief.
After I hit send, I purposely set the phone down on my dresser, and step out of my room without it. I can’t talk to him right now. My space is on the opposite side of the building from the guys’ quarters, and sometimes I resent the isolation, but right now I’m grateful for it.
I know Chief is usually in his office at this time in the morning so it’s time to deal with this head on.
His door is half open and I knock on the door jamb.
“Hey McNeill, what’s up?”
“Got a minute, Chief?”
“Sure.” He pushes away from his computer.
“Mind if I close the door?”
His eyebrows raise but he gestures his approval, so I gently shut it.
“What’s up?”
My hands are already twisting together and I look down to gather my courage. “There was an incident in the day room yesterday I need to tell you about.”
“Okay. Have a seat,” he says.
I lower myself into the chair and grasp my knees to keep my nervous hands still.
“I was in the hallway posting the visitor schedule on the board and I overheard a conversation about me, and it was really ugly, sir.”
“I see. Can you tell me what was said?”
I nod and swallow hard. “I was referred to as a bitch, and a man–eater.”
“That’s wrong and I’m not minimizing your feelings about this, but I have to ask . . . you know how the guys are, right? They give each other shit all the time.”
“But they do that to each other, face-to-face, not shit on someone who isn’t there. On top of that there was something else said that really hurt me personally . . .”
“You mean something worse than bitch and man-eater?” he asks, seeming very uneasy.
I nod. “They said that I made my husband gay.” I avert my gaze again.
“Damn,” he mutters.
“I had no idea how they really felt about me, but it makes me wonder if they’d have my back if we were on a call and things went south. Did you see that article the L.A. Times did earlier this year about hostility toward women in the firefighting profession? It sure explains why we’re still only three percent of the force.”
“I did,” he sighs, shaking his head.
He swivels his chair sideways as he studies the wall. I’ve seen him do this before when considering a difficult issue, so I know to just be patient as he chews on the end of his glasses and rubs his hands over his eyes.
“Who was it?”
“Bradley, Scott, and Joe.”
Chief’s gaze jerks over to mine, and his eyes narrow. “Joe?” He appears particularly displeased to hear his lieutenant mentioned.
“Well they were taunting Joe about being nice to me, but he didn’t stop or correct them when they talked serious shit about me.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that, McNeill. Are they aware you overheard all of this?”
I feel my cheeks heat up. “Joe is aware. He saw that I was there just as they finished talking about me. I don’t think Scott and Bradley had any idea.”
“Well, I’m glad you brought this to my attention. That isn’t anything we tolerate here. I’m going to call them in. Are you okay with that?”
I nod. I know in my gut that their reaction to being called out on what they said will have a huge influence in my decision whether to stay or go.
After he puts the call out for the three men, it only takes a couple of minutes for Bobo to show up, with Scott right behind him. I don’t make eye contact with them as they take their seats. When Joe walks through the door it takes everything I have not to look at him and there’s a scramble since the room is short a chair, but he insists on standing.
Chief motions for him to close the door, then clears his throat.
“I called you here for a serious matter. McNeill overheard an extremely offensive conversation about her between you knuckleheads
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