Big Dot,” which make everyone laugh
Humor or
Harassment?
A manager wonders whether to
complain about her boss’s
insensitive comments.
by Dianne Bevelander, Jacqueline Nolan,
and Michael Page
“My, my how tiny you are! You must
be the smallest woman on earth. Hello,
Dot!”
These were the first words Jack
Matthews spoke to Sema Isaura-Mans.
Sema, an accounts manager at the
Dutch-British financial services
consultancy Dirksen-Hall, had recently
transferred from the Ankara office to
headquarters, in Amsterdam. Jakc, the
executive vice president for special
projects was her new boss. He, too, had
just relocated – from Manchester, England,
where he’d been a VP of sales. They were
meeting for the first time at the kickoff for
a big project to which they’d both been
assigned.
Sema was completely taken aback
by Jack’s remark. Though she was barely
five feet tall and weighed just under 45
kilos, she had never given her petite build
a second thought at the office. For a few
seconds, as Jack and the other around the
table chuckled, she sat speechless. But
then she looked the six-foot-five,
potbellied Englishman in the eye and,
without really thinking, replied, “Hello,
even louder.
“Well, she’s got a sense of humor –
nice one!” Jack said, clapping his large
hands. “I’m dead chuffed you’re on our
team, Sema. I’ve heard only good things
about you.”
He moved to the head of the table
and asked all the others in the room to
introduce themselves. Then he outlined the
task that lay ahead. Their goal was to
create a common platform for all the
various back-office and client-facing
computer and network systems used by the
company’s international offices. This
would both improve customer service
globally and greatly enhance Dirksen-
Hall’s ability to manage enterprise risk.
Code-named “Samen,” the Dutch word for
“together,” the project would affect some
600 employees in 40 offices across the 28
countries where Dirksen-Hall had a
presence. It was a gigantic undertaking.
However, Jack said, looking pointedly
around the room, every person there had
been handpicked by management in the
knowledge that he or she could get the job
done. By the time he’d finished speaking,
everyone could see why Jack himself had
been appointed the project leader.
Sema felt excited. She had almost
forgotten about the beginning of the
meeting, but then Jack spoke up as she was
walking out: “Sema, let’s get a meeting on
the calendar for tomorrow, OK? Thanks,
Dot.”
Berhard’s Wife
Sema and her husband, Bernhard
Mans, had been invited to a Dirksen-Hall
welcome event that night. The company
was growing rapidly; it hosted monthly
parties for all newcomers and transfers.
Bernhard worked for the company too, as
an IT specialist. He and Sema had met
when he’d gone to Ankara to install new
systems, and the two had dated long-
distance for a while after he returned to
Amsterdam. They had been married only a
few months when Sema was tapped for
Project Samen, and both of them were
thrilled: Finally, they could share a house
and a city.
“Luck is on your side,” Sema’s
mother had said when she heard the news.
“But remember who you are, Sema. You
might work for a European company and
be married to a European Christian and be
moving to Europe, but you are still a
Turkish Muslim. Don’t forget where you
come from.”
Sema assured her mother that she
wouldn’t.
She and Bernhard had been
chatting with a few of his colleagues at the
party when Dirksen-Hall’s CFO, Harold
van der Linde, approached. One of the
men started making introductions. “And
this is Bernhard’s wife, Sema,” he said.
She felt a rush of indignation as she held
out her hand to Harold. Bernhard quickly
piped up: “Yes, we’re here for Sema,
actually. She’s the accounts manager for
Project Samen” – but someone tapped the
CFO on the shoulder, and Harold made a
polite exit before he could hear anything
more about her.
“Bernhard’s wife, indeed!” Sema
fumed as they left the building. “Does that
guy think all Turkish women wear a veil
and clean toilets?”
“Come on, love, give him a break!
I’ve worked with that guy for five years.
It’s only natural that he’d refer to you as
my wife, and” –
“So my masters of science in
finance means nothing, my MBA from
Sabanci means nothing, and my six years
experience as a direct report of the Turkish
CFO at Dirksen-Hall means little more. I
see. My name is Dot, and I am Bernhard’s
wife.”
Turkish Delight
Six months later, Sema still remembered
the quarrel vividly. Of course, Bernhard’s
colleague hadn’t been the real problem that
night. She’d soon learned that he was a
lovely Dutchman with the utmost respect
for women; his wife was a surgeon; and
they had two whip-smart teenage girls.
The real problem was Jack.
Although Project Samen was on track to
be a huge success, and Sema was
energized by the work, she’d grown
increasingly uncomfortable with the
informal team dynamics he encouraged.
He still called her Dot all the time. It was a
joke that wouldn’t die.
That night there was to be a team-
building dinner at Toscanini, in the
Jordaan district, and Sema knew it would
be a lively affair. True to form, Jack rose
to speak after the second course, tapping
his glass with a spoon. “Thanks, everyone,
for joining me for this great dinner,” he
said. “You’ve all earned it. But we still
have a way to go. So, to help us along the
way…it’s time for the Dirksen-Hall Team
Globes.”
The awards were meant to increase
cohesion and commitment on the team and
to recognize everyone’s individual efforts.
They consisted of certificates on which
individual members had written short
messages for their colleagues. Jack handed
out the awards, reading selected lines from
each one before asking the awardee to
come forward.
Turning to Sema, Jack read,
“Given your tremendous addiction –
number crunching add-ic-tion – it is just as
well that you live in Amsterdam!” “You
are certainly a quick study – not only do
you appreciate Dutch humor, but you give
as good as you get!” “Goes the extra mile
and always finds the time to help others.”
And finally, a joke that could only have
come from him: “Help! I’m short of
money because m accounts manager’s too
small! But what a Turkish delight!”
Her teammates applauded loudly as
Sema stepped up to receive her certificate.
She took it, smiled briefly, and returned to
her place at the table, where she stuffed it
into her bag.
“Feel like joining some of us in the
pub?” Jack asked after dinner. “I know it’s
been a long haul, but hang in there, Dot.”
The Breaking Point?
“Can’t sleep?” Bernhard asked her in bed
later.
“No, I can’t.”
“What’s up?”
“It’s Jack again,” Sema said.
“Something he wrote on a stupid award at
dinner this evening. ‘Help! I’m short of
money because my accounts manager is
too small.” She tried to imitate Jack’s
accent.
Benhard laughed.
“It’s not funny!” Sema said,
pulling away from him. “He’s just an
uncouth salesman who likes his beer too
much!”
“Sema, we’ve gone over this
before. He’s respected in the company. He
had a brilliant track record. And you know
these British types – especially the ones
from the north. It’s a particular kind of
humor.”
“Humor? To ridicule someone’s
physical appearance? It’s now become
acceptable for the entire team to make fun
of my size. Last week he called me Dot in
a meeting with Harold van der Linde! And
in front of a client!”
“Why don’t you just tell him to
stop?”
“Everyone laughs at his jokes. And
they respect him too. The whole team
prides itself on being close and informal
and having a good time even when we’re
under intense pressure. I don’t want to be
the killjoy.”
“OK, then quit. Ask HR for
another assignment. Or leave the company.
There are plenty of jobs out there. No one
is forcing you to stay.”
“How would I explain that? And
why should I quit? That would be like
exonerating Jack for his offensive
behaviour.”
“I know I’m supposed to just let
you vent and not offer solutions, Sema.
But this has been bothering you for six
months, for the entire time you’ve been in
Amsterdam, for most of our married life!
If you’re this unhappy, you need to do
something about it.”
Sema got up, went into the kitchen,
and made herself a cup of sweet tea.
Bernhard followed, but she gave a kiss and
told him to go back to bed. She wanted
time to think.
After a few minutes, she powered
up her laptop, logged on to Dirksen-Hall’s
intranet, and read the first paragraph of the
HR director’s introductory comments,
which stressed the company’s commitment
to creating a work environment free from
discrimination and harassment – one in
which diversity was valued, and all
employees were accorded dignity,
courtesy, and respect. She clicked on a few
links and found documents outlining the
company’s ethics policies and grievance
procedures. They offered contact
information for both the HR director,
Gerda van Leeuw, whom Sema had met
during her relocation process, and the
company’s ombudsman and head of
corporate social responsibility, Tim
Connolly. She opened up another window,
logged on to her e-mail account, and
started writing to both of them. But then
she stopped cold.
Project Samen was more than half
finished. I’ve lasted this long, Sema
thought. How could she complain – or quit
– now?

Should Sema lodge a

complaint against Jack?