Think8 Women

The Russell house was heaven for my sister and I. Huge closets crammed with dress-up clothes.  Board games stacked in every corner.  Comic books side-by-side with encyclopedias… Mrs. Russell didn’t care how much chaos eight of us created.

Their gabled roof was perfect for climbing on to monitor baby pigeons. Kittens birthed in boxes with old towels.

Majestic apple trees begged to be climbed, offering tart apples complete with worms. We lobbed rotten ones at each other. Underground forts were dug in fallow gardens and the yard was always choked with bikes and Hula Hoops.  Idyllic.

Except for Sally.

A middle child, her favorite game was to squash every good idea. Regardless of what the group decided to play, she would declare it ‘dumb’.

But we knew if we didn’t include her, we’d be in trouble. A woman of few rules, Mrs. Russell had a well-defined policy of inclusion.  So we’d plead with Sally to join. She’d refuse, stomping off, pouting.

But as soon as the endeavor became exciting, Sally would demand not only to play but to be front and center! If we refused, she would storm off, crying.

Sally made crying an art form.

In fact she was armed with an arsenal of effective ploys. She tattled, lied, goaded, taunted and threw spectacular tantrums. But somehow, she always came out on top.

We had to include Sally, despite her smugness.  But by then the passion for play was lost and we’d drift off leaving her yelling, “Told it was dumb!”

I’m sure you know at least one Sour Sally: the colleague who shoots down every good idea, the person who refuses do her fair share of the work but willingly takes full credit for everyone else’s work.

The man who still hasn’t learned to use the copy machine so someone else (like you) will have to do his share too.

Sour Sally’s are not gender specific—it could be a man who wheedles to get the best schedule, regardless of other’s workload. Or a woman, nice to those above, never to those below.

Grown-up Sally’s are identical to the childhood version. They will find and use a Mrs. Russell to hide behind. A champion.  They lie, tattle and goad. They spread false rumors and stories and cannot be trusted to pass on any information (good or bad) accurately.

They rag on everyone behind their backs and are often surrounded by a gaggle who hope that by being ‘friends’, they won’t be targeted. They’re wrong. Sour Sally is an equal opportunity ‘trasher’.

Sour Sally’s suck energy from everyone. They are takers, not givers. They wear a banner saying ‘Poor Me’ and some fall hard for it, until they too get burned.

Sour Sally’s are convinced that new endeavors will fail. They roll their eyes and sigh, even when you’re trying to help them with something that they need to accomplish.  It is a flip of reality– your help becomes betrayal.

What can you do about Sour Sally’s?

First:  Identify what you are seeing. Ask how do you feel when you are around them. Bigger, stronger and more capable…  or squashed and tired? Does this person suck the life out of every endeavor? If so, you have your very own Sour Sally.

Second: Name it! Stop overriding your own wisdom and knowingness. When the ‘game’ loses all heart and is no fun to play anymore, chances are that you are in battle with a Sour Sally—and she hates to lose.

You will not change her. You cannot make her a team player. If you are constantly scrounging up positive points to convince yourself that the situation it is not as awful as it seems, then you are a good person who is rationalizing bad behavior.

Third: Take action. If you’re the boss, get rid of her. Your workplace will brighten. If a Sour Sally is your boss, find a new position. If she is a colleague, be polite but stay out of her way. If you have to work closely with him, kill ‘em with kindness.

Keep your standards high. Do not let Sour Sally’s behaviors alter your own. Be the classy person are you are to everyone else—including her or him.

And if Sour Sally is a friend, (even one with whom you are in love) make a list of what you expect, want and need in a friendship. This person may not actually be a friend– by your own standards.  Remember: we teach people how to treat us. Set your bar up where it belongs and expect that behavior.

After a Sally blow-up, Rosalind and I would escape to my backyard where we would lay on the grass making up names for cloud.

Rosalind died shortly after I returned from Australia and by then the Russell family had scattered.  I never did find out what became of Sally but I’m glad she came early  in my life. She taught me a lot about the Sally’s I would later encounter.

For that I am grateful.

But I still don’t want to play with Sally.

Nancy