Seeing Red—and Pink

Years ago, when part of my job was to research best practices in business management and leadership, one controversial topic was benefits for same-sex partners. But it wasn’t controversial for the reasons you might expect. Morality and religion were absent from the conversation.

Instead, HR directors were fearful that any couple—whether homosexual or heterosexual, committed to one another or not—could file for benefits. People could even PRETEND to be part of a couple and get benefits. Give same-sex committed partners the privilege of receiving benefits and you open the door to providing the same to noncommitted same-sex couples, which opens the door to opposite-sex committed unmarried partners receiving benefits, which naturally snowballs into noncommitted unmarried opposite-sex couples getting the same, and pretty soon everybody is getting benefits.

I laugh about this now because the solution is so easy: equal marriage rights. Benefits go to married couples, not longtime partners or faux couples. By making marriage lawful for same-sex couples, corporations won’t have to fret over how to determine whether a couple is bona fide. If couples want protection and recognition under the law, they’ll marry; if not, they won’t.

The issue becomes black and white. Or red and pink.

Isn’t it time for us to stand on the right side of history?

Saying Goodbye to Summer and Dog Paddling

Earlier this year as Summer gave way to Autumn, I counted down the days leading up to the local “Dog Paddle.”

Dog Paddles have become successful fundraising events for canine advocacy groups across America and the Bluegrass is no exception. People pay (that is, donate to whatever the cause is) to give their dogs free rein in and around a sparkling pool.

I could hardly wait to attend, anticipating snapping some great pics of dogs flying into the water, dogs shaking off excess water, dogs playing with new water mates. I could hardly wait to share all this dog love on Lull. It was to be my first Dog Paddle, and I lived within walking distance of it.

Yes, there had been Dog Paddles in the Windy City, but they were not the type of events my pooch appreciated. First, too many dogs. She enjoyed one-on-one canine companionship, but throw another dog or more into the mix and she felt threatened. Second, swimming was an activity she saved only for desperate situations. (At least, I presumed she could have dog-paddled if she needed to. Thankfully, the occasion never arose, so my presumption was never verified.)

Mind you, during her near-daily walks along Lake Michigan, the pooch thought nothing of dunking her entire head into the murky waters to forage for interesting items. Besides the detritus of the lake’s bottom, she led us to a turtle, a Conch shell, scores of “Gull breakfasts” (i.e., dead fish), a melon, three swans, and a kayak. But should that water even touch her belly, the Spotted Thing flew to the safety of the beach. Exploration over, pleasure undone.

I even tried to alleviate her water-reluctance with marine-related toys. But to no avail. Of the creatures pictured here (a pelican, a trout, a crab, a mammoth fish, and a sea turtle I was partial to), only the pelican attracted her attention—due, I think, to its strange honking vocalization. More often than not, though, the pooch needed my assistance to get the bird to “talk.” She was so gentle with her mouth and her paws that she couldn’t apply the appropriate pressure to the toy.

Now without the pooch, I frequently need a dog fix, and the Dog Paddle had promised to deliver. After I signed the waiver all participants had to agree to, I asked how much the fee was for folks without dogs. The volunteer said she didn’t know, but she’d check.

My husband and I waited and watched as more dogs and their entourages were allowed entrance to the pool. The woman returned to us to say, “There’s no more room. It’s too crowded.”

She was polite. We were dumbfounded. And overcrowding certainly wasn’t the issue.

For years we’d felt the injustice of discrimination because we HAD a dog or because our dog was “BIG” (read: heavier than a Chihuahua). It prevented our dining al fresco, of romping on the beach during summer afternoons, of living in most condo and apartment buildings, of staying in most motels, even of visiting my grandmother.

Now that we were dogless, we again were “other.” Friends of the Dog Park, the organization hosting and benefitting from the Dog Paddle fundraiser—the organization deserving of kudos for developing four huge dog parks here in Lexington—had declined our bid for friendship. I wouldn’t say they made enemies of us, but they did nothing to gain our support.

We left with only a photo of tennis balls waiting for action, and yet another reminder of the ache and void that our dear pooch left behind.

[At top: The Elderly Spotted Thing on a warm March day at her beach. Too tired for underwater investigations, but alert enough to enjoy the sun and smells.]

Ouch!: HR Takes a Hit on the Evening News

I just watched a segment on the news about unemployment. It caught my ear. Then it depressed me enough to retreat to my new uninformed self. Here's why.

An older distinguished-looking fellow, who has been out of work for a year, told the reporter two job-hunting anecdotes while standing in line at a job fair. He said that at another job fair, he took the required "IQ test" of an employer and scored 99 out of 100. The recruiter told him he was too smart for the position and hired the fellow behind him—who scored around a 75 out of 100. Then he recounted an interview with another recruiter who told him her company had "enough colored people" there now. He told her that what she was saying was illegal and he could report her comments to someone of higher authority. She said he'd have to prove she said it.

And don't you start thinking this little episode took place in the land that time forgot. No sirree. New York City was the setting.

It's hard enough to fight the competition for a job. But when you're fighting stupidity and discrimination and cruelty as well—from the very people who hold the key to your future—you begin to wonder whether staying in the fight is worthwhile.