What happens when you love your job but not the culture?

The cyclical nature of the mining industry isn’t restricted to the supply and demand of commodities. The emotional ups and downs are present day to day, week to week, as board level diversity decisions struggle to translate through the layers, down to people at the bottom of the pecking order.

The Highs

The high of a discovery - you’ve discovered the root cause of an issue that’s been causing havoc for people – because when a machine suffers, people suffer.

The high of overcoming technical challenges - you’ve been stuck on a data manipulation issue for days and you’ve finally pushed through into the next stage and the data you’re trending is making sense. Or you’ve been pushing for a change in process or systems and your stakeholders have finally agreed.

The high of bonding with a work mate, over a joke where no one was the butt of it, no one felt disrespected. Maybe it was word play, maybe it was just a funny story from the weekend about your dog being a menace. Maybe it was a recap of the bachelorette.

The high of learning something from someone in your team. You feel humbled that they’ve shared their insight with you. You’re able to share something with them too, and together you’re on track to deliver something better than either of you could do alone.

The Lows

The low of a stray comment where it’s clear that your gender is the thing people will remember most about you. Not your talent, not your kindness or curiosity. Not even your less desirable traits like stubbornness or your “dad-jokes” (even though you’re not a dad and what’s up with all the dads getting credit for your comedic gold anyway?).

The low of being singled out in a pre-start full of tradespeople (mostly male) because someone swore and they think you’ll be offended. You need to be marked as sensitive, even though one of your favourite jokes is to respond to the detonation of a c-bomb with "I have one of those. She's listening.".

The low of ruminating over and over a conversation with your boss where you can’t seem to get on the same page. You’re frustrating him because you’re too difficult to understand and he prides himself on understanding his people. He decides you must be the issue. He decides that you need to communicate better, that you don’t have enough confidence and that fact is wholly unconnected with your experience, because he doesn’t believe that your experience could possibly be as bad as you say it is. He doesn’t believe that people don’t believe you (hello, irony) or are dismissive of you.

The low of having your favourite gee-up day of the year, pi day, March 14th, take on a different meaning. It’s no longer 3-14, it’s one month after valentine’s day; so if a man does well on valentine’s day, he’ll be rewarded by his wife/girlfriend (it’s always a hetero couple) with a steak and a blow job a month later. A superintendent tells you that he’s sad because he got neither.

The low of how excluded you feel when the team day kick-on is the topless Tuesday at the local pub.

The low of reporting to a superintendent that a co-worker was rubbing himself for the entirety of your 5 minute conversation with him, only to be asked “How do you get yourself into these situations?”.

The low of standing in the cab of a dig unit happily talking to a maintainer, only to turn around to see a production supervisor sitting behind you holding his ipad outstretched, level with his face and your behind, as if to take a photo of your butt. You think you have to get that ipad. You ask him what he uses it for. He says safety observations. You wrack your brains to think of a way of getting it but your brain isn’t really working in the shock of the moment. You get a lift home with a male peer that day, tell him what you think happened. He laughs, you do nothing.

The low of yet another farewell morning tea or pub dinner for someone like you. Another one bites the dust, never to be mentioned by their team again.

The low of hearing from some of the people who have moved on, that moving didn’t help. It may be better but it’s still nowhere near where it needs to be. Maybe it’s the same everywhere.

The low of being characterised as a troublemaker and whinger because you spoke up. You shed light on behaviour that’s been tolerated and accepted for far too long.

The Middle Ground

The middle ground comes when your leader starts acknowledging the issues and a common language to describe it develops.

The middle ground comes when they keep hiring people like you, to the replace the ones you’ve lost. They may be cannon fodder in the game of gender metrics, but they are still there.

The middle ground comes when someone else comes to your defence after a put down in a meeting.

The middle ground comes when you’re so hardened to the bullshit you that don’t hurt as much as you did before.

The Next Step

I have one foot out the turnstile at all times just to remind myself that I can leave. I’m in demand - I’ve had better offers from other companies recognising my value, my potential. Why do I stay? Because the longer I am here, the more established I become, the greater chances I have of influencing the culture for good. So that the new people like me have a better time than I did when I first started. So that one day, when an opportunity comes up that is in line with the ambitions of the people who have left, they will have confidence that they will have a better experience than they did before.

A disclaimer: I have chosen to write this anonymously, if you suspect my identity, kindly respect my desire to remain unconnected with this article. Think about the possibility that if you guess it wrongly, you may be adding to the stress of someone who might also have their foot out the turnstile, and you may just be the person to nudge them through the gate.