OK, I have just stirred the pot, which goes against every fiber of my being.
A few months back, the disparate groups of women at my rowing club voted to merge together into one big group (that's a gross oversimplification of a very drama-filled story, but it will suffice for this explanation) under one coach. The rationale was that it would better develop new, novice rowers and make them feel as though we were one, big, happy family. Previously, each crew, or boat, managed itself, and the crews didn't much mix.
But one of the women's crews at my rowing club, which I will call Boat A, owns its own boat (i.e., does not have to share equipment with the rest of the club). When it came time to merge, Boat A decided not to participate in it, keeping themselves off to the side -- but keeping their membership current in case they need substitute rowers or to borrow equipment for some reason -- while the rest of us feel our way around in the Brave New World.
In a nutshell, that is the history of their club membership and participation in group activities, a microcosm of how they always have dealt with the rest of the club.
I will be the first to point out that it greatly has worked to their advantage: They almost always row with the same lineup of women, never having to deal with rotating lineups or widely varying skill levels; they aren't bothered by rowers who no-show to practice; and they never have to worry about not having a boat available to take out, since they own their own. As a result, they are the fastest, most efficient women's crew in the club. They even recently
won a national championship in a masters rowing division.
However, over the years, they have continually been confronted with criticism that they are elitist and not team players, refusing to incubate new members by allowing them into their lineup until they deem them fit or worthy enough. They have instead preferred to hand-pick their members. But how can the club grow when new, novice members aren't made to feel like they fit in?
(Long aside: In a past posting, I have compared them vs. my crew, "Boat B," with the pros and cons of a dictatorship vs. a pure democracy. Our operations are polar opposites. They run their ship with perfectionism and strict efficiency, and there is accountability for slip-ups [they have been known to kick rowers out of their boat for repeated tardiness]. A couple of their rowers make all of the decisions, settle all differences and take care of all problems, and the rest just nod, show up and row, with no baggage or responsibility -- which is how they like it. Among themselves, they rarely have differences to settle. My boat, on the other hand, historically has been bogged down by tardiness, second-guessing and clouds of indecision, because each individual rower has an equal say -- sometimes a long one at that. But we like to operate under the assumptions that [1] we're all adults and can hold ourselves accountable [often that's true, sometimes we frustratingly manage to disprove that] and that [2] everyone's opinion
does matter -- but that's how we like it.)
I must point out here that Boat A always has been very defensive about their positions, and they have two to three very opinionated, type-A personalities who tend to dominate most meetings (the aforementioned women who make all of the decisions). Thus, they are very aggressive in their interpersonal dealings and tend to get what they want, because many of the rest of us are not as confrontational and most of the time just don't want to get into it with them. (There are stories here regarding this, one involving me, in a very, very rare instance of losing my composure, having a freakout directed straight to them, but that's for another day.)
There have been a few instances this year when Boat A has asked to borrow either equipment or rowers from the rest of the women's program. But I and several other, more vocal, club members have fought to keep Boat A separate from the women's crews that merged. My feeling is that they made their bed, now they must lie in it. I may be the one not being a team player here, but I firmly think it's not fair they sit out on the merge yet want to play in our sandbox at their convenience.
Today, Boat A asked that the boat they row/own be included in an online database of club boats. The club's online database also functions as a calendar for reserving boats, oars, launches and rowing machines for use. Boat A's argument is that it will allow other crews to know when they're practicing and when they're out on the water.
I replied to the e-mail request, sent to Boat A and much of the club's management, by saying I didn't think Boat A's boat should be included in the online database. I said the database is for reserving club equipment, and their boat is privately-owned and thus not available to reserve by club members. There is a log book in the boathouse in which crews are supposed to document "time in" and "time out," for safety purposes, so that others know who is out on the water when. I said that should suffice for Boat A's concern about letting others know when they're on the water.
Speaking of the logbook, I've also taken to calling our boat "ORC [Orlando Rowing Club] A" when logging us in and out each time we row. As Boat B's captain, I'm the person who is responsible for this duty, and for years, I'd been logging us as "ORC B." But with Boat A's decision not to participate in the merge -- which is what the club's women's program
voted to do -- I no longer feel as though they're part of the "official" program but more of a separate club that happens to share our boathouse.
I haven't gotten a response yet from anyone in their boat about the e-mail. It's been unusually quiet. They are typically one of the first to shoot back a retort.
As most people are, it's easier for me to be confrontational when I'm hiding behind a keyboard. But I still believe I said the right thing. Ask me again in another day or so.
Current mood: Hungry
He's my first, oldest cat. I got him in early 1994. I'd graduated college in fall of 1993 and left my parents' nest for the first time, moving into an apartment on the east side of town. One of my best friends in high school was moving back here from Texas, so we decided to become roommates. (As you might imagine, that turned out to be a mistake and the nail in the coffin for our friendship, but that's another story.) Anyway, soon after we moved in together, one of her sister's two cats had four kittens, and they needed homes. My boyfriend at the time adopted one, his mom took another, the sister kept one and I adopted the fourth and named him Jean-Luc after oh captain my captain, Jean-Luc Picard.
Taken with my spiffy new low-end MacBook, which has a built-in camera (and mic) above the screen!
Posts
