It was the fall planning meeting. A five hundred million dollar technology budget was a stake and any man who entered that room without his white shirt was already a loser. The conference room was a long, elegant, corporate space at the Boston offices. Needless to say, the testosterone radiating from the white shirts was blinding. I calculated the testosterone ratio to be 5:1 … five men for every one woman. This ratio was a little higher than most meetings. The standard is generally closer to 4:1 with an occasional 3:1 thrown in for good measure. So with approximately six women in the meeting, the testosterone count was … well you can do the math! As I sat there through out the day, prepared to defend my piece of that budget, something unexpected began to transpire. I was becoming inebriated … almost giddy … with testosterone. One minute I was deflecting the harsh glare of white shirts and the next minute I was feeling drunk with power and prestige. I was making decisions with some of the most powerful testosterone in the corporation. It was so intoxicating that I actually woke up the next morning with a testosterone hangover … the remains of all the clout and status faintly pounding in my head. It did not last long. It did nothing to recharge my own personal testosterone. What it was … was a taste of what it feels like to wear the white shirt!
So ... where shall we go next? As much as I hate to admit it .... Sometimes .....
No comments:
Post a Comment