Clubs and Gloves

Last month I was one of eight people selected by my company to be a candidate for the 2023 Women In Technology (WIT) award nominations.

It was a bit of a process that was vetted in phases, and I was championed the entire time by my direct manager.

Once submitted for consideration, six of us were not elevated to be WITS nominees, but two were. Which is awesome.

What an outstanding achievement for them and us on a national stage.


Now, I get to be someone who says that it was an honour just to be asked.

But truly?

And I’m shocked by this admission. It really really WAS an honour and a boost to be recognised by my company with 13,000+ employees.

So, I’m owning this out rightly, and proudly.


In full disclosure, I’m not big on gender specific call outs. However, in this case I don’t mind.

In my chosen profession I am often the lone female around the conference room table. I never mind. I command myself well. I suspect being raised with four brothers eased me.

Recently, only, I realised just how much that scale was tipped when I started making mental notes of female names on the TO line of work emails.

I was noticing not out of curiosity, but because it was out of the ordinary.

It’s slowly becoming less of a thing to pause over. Which is good.


And even though the WIT thing is done, my elite group of eight is not quite finished.

This Wednesday, the president of our company is taking us out to dinner.


I’m generally not one to join outside-of-office work events. It’s no secret. Most people know this about me. I don’t do socials.

Which makes this all the more amusing when I sent a fishing text to my boss asking if he was planning to attend that dinner (those who sponsored were invited as well). His response was a one liner: Yes, and so are you.

No reading between the lines. Apparently I’m going too.


Getting there mid-week is going to be a bit of a thing because the dinner is at 6pm in D.C.

I thought about booking a hotel as not to stress myself out with stretched highway driving and city traffic both ways.

In the end, I’m opting to take the 2 hours to get there. The 2 hours for dinner. And then another 2 hours to get back to the house.

Which hopefully finds me home before 11pm. Done in one.


No harm, no foul. It’ll be nice to see my colleagues.

And, to quote my dear friend Marty, sometimes you have to play the game.

So, I’m taking my clubs and gloves.

Besides, my Jeep still has its newness, and I’ve a few new tunes on my playlist to break in.


The only side affect I’m experiencing from all of this is that, not since grade school, do I have no idea what to wear.


Talk about your cliches and first world problems.

Happy Sunday.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.