Are Women Too Nice At the Office?

By GINIA BELLAFANTE

Earlier this month, Baker & McKenzie, the nation's largest law firm, was ordered to pay $7.1 million in damages to a secretary who endured the repeated breast groping and buttocks grabbing of a senior partner. Other women had previously complained about the unwanted advances made by this partner (he plucked at bra straps; he tickled feet), but the firm did little beyond reprimanding him.

The award, believed to be the highest ever for an individual sexual- harassment case, probably would not have been made in the pre-Clarence Thomas-Anita Hill era. But ever since the entire country pulled up to the tube to watch Thomas fight off charges that he had harassed his subordinate, the American workplace has resembled an embattled frat house where boys struggle to discern the boundary between sexual civility and salacious misconduct. Heightened attention to the issue of sexual transgression, however, seems to have eclipsed discussion of the more profoundly common ways men and women communicate -- or fail to communicate -- with one another in offices, schools and factories every day. Talking from 9 to 5, the latest book by linguist and gender-war pundit Deborah Tannen (William Morrow; $23; due Oct. 19), has set out to correct that.

The virtue of the book is that it captures the quotidian misunderstandings between men and women in the workplace. It is full of episodes like the one between Deirdre and William. On the way home from a national conference at which they each gave presentations, Deirdre compliments William on his talk. "Thank you," he says. Deirdre rejoins, "What did you think of mine?" Expecting a reciprocal pat on the back, she's startled when her colleague launches into a detailed critique. Deirdre had actually had a few problems with William's speech but felt uncomfortable about voicing them without being asked.

Then there is the female university president's contretemps with a male board member. Before they enter her office, she gives her secretary a piece of paper and says, "I've just finished drafting this letter. Do you think you could type it right away? ... And would you please do me a favor and hold all calls while I'm meeting with Mr. Smith?" Inside her office, Mr. Smith suggests that he disapproves of the solicitous way the head of the college has spoken to her secretary. "Don't forget," he says, "you're the president!"

And then there is the misfire between the female bookstore proprietor and her male manager. "The bookkeeper needs help with the billing. What would you think about helping her out?" she asks him. The manager replies with "O.K." -- which really means, "O.K., I'll think about helping her out." Days later, he has yet to assist in the task.

That women tend to opt for the soft touch is also evident in the way they use "I'm sorry" and "Thank you." Women, more often than men, will use these phrases blindly in instances where there is no need for expressions of apology or gratitude. Tannen offers the example of Charlene, who is visited by a colleague at an inopportune time. After explaining that she is quite busy, she adds, "Boy, I'm really sorry about this rush-rush."

As she did in her perennial best seller, You Just Don't Understand: Women and Men in Conversation, Tannen argues that the sexes baffle and bewilder each other, not because they have vastly different psychological makeups, but because they have distinct conversational styles. Women, the theory goes, speak in a way that seeks to build participation or rapport, while men tend to communicate in a manner that asserts autonomous remove.

The two sexes establish their separate languages, Tannen contends, in the single-sex groups they play in as children. She cites various studies that describe male groups as hierarchical and quick to teach little boys how to dominate and jockey for the spotlight, often by versing them in a vocabulary of ridicule and put-downs. Girls' groups, on the other hand, are predominantly structured around pairs of best friends who share secrets and forge intimacy.

In Talking from 9 to 5, Tannen explores the ways in which these playground codes manifest themselves in America's cubicles and conference rooms, and argues that they leave women at a disadvantage. Public speaking, an essential aspect of business culture, Tannen writes, is significantly less frightening for men because "standing up in front of a large group of people, commanding attention, and talking authoritatively are extensions of the socialization most boys have been forced to endure as boys in groups tend to vie for center stage, challenge the boys who get it, and deflect the challenge of others." Office discussions can turn into fruitless debates between men and women when this male style clashes with the more conciliatory female. "A mutually aggravated spiral occurs," says Tannen. A man might resort to ridicule, while "she becomes increasingly diffident as he becomes more intimidating. The man senses her position as weak and becomes more overbearing."

While drawing on formal linguistic studies to bolster her argument, Tannen admits that her own research was "more like found art." She created informal labs out of a number of different work settings -- hospitals, universities, companies large and small -- many of which were suggested to her by friends and colleagues. There she observed that women generally tend to behave in ways that prevent them from standing out. Women, Tannen says, are above all consensus builders, which is why many in positions of authority "feel it is only natural to ask everyone around them for their opinions." A male higher- up might misinterpret this as a show of indecisiveness.

Women tend to hesitate calling attention to their accomplishments or hogging the recognition. She cites the example of the head of an educational-film company who was shocked when a female employee seemed reluctant to capitalize on a coveted opportunity to handle a large sale. "Maybe someone else should follow up this time," she said, "since I've already got the highest sales in the group for the month."

Tannen does a great service to men and women by providing a readable guide to the rituals of sexual miscommunication in the workplace. But others can argue that her analysis falls into the old trap of painting women as self- deprecating victims of a man-friendly world. "There is a sense in which every woman is seen as a receptionist -- available to give information and help, perennially interruptible," she says flatly. One wonders how many female CEOs are barged in on by underlings who cannot seem to remember the company fax number.

Tannen is ultimately at her most intriguing when she is at her most contrarian. She challenges the cliche that women are more indirect than men and that tentativeness reflects a lack of confidence. In Japanese culture, she points out, it is actually considered boorish for the higher-status person to be direct. Men and women are both indirect, she argues, but in different ways.

In the men's case, the approach is often a response to displays of emotion. She uses the example of a doctor who has just informed his patient of the serious side effects of a medication he has prescribed for her. "Yeah, so you prolong your life for what, you know?" the patient responds. To which the physician answers, "Do you have an appointment to see a therapist soon?" The doctor's abrupt reply is an indirect way to deal with his patient's emotional distress.

! "People will not always want to engage in conversations about how they communicate," says Tannen in an interview. But she would like her book to serve as a way to make men and women more attuned to one another's unique dialects. "The hope is not only that individuals will change their behavior," she says, "but that people who makes judgments of others will recognize different styles." As the corporate world becomes less rigidly authoritarian, and as men and women learn to become aware of one another's speaking styles, the most widely spoken language of the workplace could simply become the language of civility.