Workplace Gossip
Posted By Hinda Mandell on December 10, 2009
I am certainly not the worst gossiper on the planet. But I do generally like to talk. While I know there is a fundamental difference between talk (“Mom, will you please pass me a fork?”) and gossip (“Mom, can you believe the Goldbergs use plastic forks on Passover?”) the two forms of chatter often converge.
And when they do, I am more than happy to partake in a little verbal schmoozing. It may not be chicken soup, but it’s still good for the soul.
Well, not according to everyone. Imagine my paranoia when I read this New York Times bit on a workplace that contractually forbids its employees from talking about others behind their back.
Sure, backstabbing is mean and unprofessional. But not being able to say anything about someone who isn’t present? That sounds downright totalitarian!
The purpose of gossip (hey, I know, I took an independent study relating to the subject!) is not just to reinforce social ties and impose a moral code. It also helps people monitor their environment and learn what others are saying about them. That, comrades, is crucial for our evolution! After all, if Shlomo Epstein plans to buy all of the Annie’s Sour Cream & Onion Bunnies from the local co-op, and if everyone’s talking smack about his digestive habits, I’m gonna want to know about it. After all, I better get to that co-op first.
Shlomo silliness asside, I do recall an instance of workplace gossip that I found helpful because it clued me into what others thought about me.
In my mid-20s I was an editor of an East Coast Jewish newspaper. I came into the job with excitement for editing copy and a penchant for fitted denim and blousy tops. I dressed age appropriate. Perhaps my wardrobe did not convey nerdy seriousness. No bother, I thought.
That is until the publisher’s secretary took me aside one day.
Someone called the publisher, she said.
Wow, that’s great, I probably responded.
They didn’t understand why the editor of the newspaper was wearing tight black jeans and pink go-go boots at the gala fundraiser the other night, the secretary continued.
Go-go boots? I retorted. They were all-weather, made in Canada, moon boots, I said. I don’t do 70s fashion. I’m an 80s girl.
Besides, what did this caller have against hot pink?
The point is two-fold: One, the secretary and publisher perhaps sought to tone down my dressing style by conveying this third-party comment to me. I was supposed to dress the part. Second, I valued knowing what was said about me behind my back.
Even if I did choose to still rock the hot pink moon boots at work.
The real reason behind that contract, I have to believe, is to make it a fire-able offense to spread a damaging, untrue rumor.
A workplace that doesn’t have a policy is open to, “You know how Suzy got the Parks Department account, right? I hear she’s sleeping with the mayor!” And when the rest of the sales staff manages to ruin Suzy’s sales career, Suzy has no recourse and the company has lost a valuable sales rep.
With the policy in place, the company can fire the trouble-starter (who clearly couldn’t sell the Parks Department account, or he wouldn’t have started the rumor) and there are no worries all the way around.
But wouldn’t libel/defamation protect Suzy? I would have to be mute if I worked at a place like that! I guess we also need to talk definitions. Is it considered gossip to simply *talk* about an absent third party? Or does it have to be negative?
Well, a defamation statute would protect Suzy, but she’d turn around and sue the company. I guess this also protects the company, leaving the gossiping employee fully responsible.
Answer = Companies should buy lotsa insurance. And then some more. As for culpability, I’m a firm believer that everyone should take total responsibility for their actions or the consequences of their actions. But let there still be talk! Pretty please?
OMG! this reminds me of an encounter I had early on in my editing/writing career for another east coast religious publication.
it was a friday. I was wearing a cute, black, boatneck sweater (fitted, but not the least bit tight), a denim skirt, which hit about an inch above the knee, and red track shoes. cute? yes. slutty? not even close.
or so I thought. because that just happened to be the day that a diplomat and his wife, both friends of the editor-in-chief were in town. I was introduced. the wife looked me up and down, wrinkled her nose and said, “oh. an editor in an mini-skirt.”
I was given a firm talking-to and instructions for dressing more “appropriately.”
that was before they hired the girl with the c-cup whose entire wardrobe came from bebe …
Everything dynamic and very positively!
Thanks
Nicolas