Do you really want to know what’s wrong?
This isn’t going to be funny
Creative director phoned me yesterday and asked if there was anything wrong. He assumed that because I had made an error on a puzzle, had recently disappointed him with a logo, had not given a new colleague the opportunity to share screens and work together, and had most recently submitted a design for a magazine ad that looked like word-processing, that there was something wrong.
Sounds like the guy’s got a point. But he doesn’t
I defended all of it. And I just very loudly typed a paragraph in which I defended all of it again, which I deleted, but it felt good.
I am sitting here at my computer with my coat on. Daisy is waiting at my side. She is getting drowsy in the patch of sunlight that is leaning in through the window.
But
My youngest daughter had an unfortunate epiphany the other day. She is a blacksmith/ferrier. She is excellent at her job. She does better work than many of her colleagues with 20 or 30 years of experience.
If you look at a foot she did and compare it to someone else’s, hers is superior nine times out of ten and the other time, it’s as good as.
But people don’t want to pay her the same as they pay her male counterparts. And in spite of her clearly superior workmanship, she has lost opportunities for which she was a better fit than the guy who got the gig. If a horse is in distress, she will move fucking mountains and she will fix it, yet her consistent cheerfulness and infallible work ethic is overlooked and under-appreciated to an appalling degree.
They either do not see the kindness with which she treats their horses, or they do not want to see it.
She is 22 years old and this breaks my heart
But she’s not letting it break hers. She’s putting her dukes up instead. She’s saying fuck ‘em to those who don’t get her, and she’s moving on and finding those who do.
