The Tangled Chains On The Swing Set of Solipsism 
The Red Pill Room | September 19, 2012 | by Ian Ironwood
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If you aren't a Manosphere skulker, you might have missed this
interesting debate about female solipsism.  Susan at HUS
[http://www.hookingupsmart.com/2012/09/17/tidbits/sex-differences/comment-page-2/#comment-149321]scoffed
at the idea, and wanted to see _proof_.  Vox Day at Alpha Game
[http://alphagameplan.blogspot.com/2012/09/susan-challenges-concept.html]took
a swing, Dalrock made a good stab at it,
[http://dalrock.wordpress.com/2012/09/18/female-solipsism/] and found
some divorce stats that tend to favor the idea, but I thought a more
easily-provable aspect of female solipsism might arise from his first
point, that solipsism was proved by  "...the tendency of women to
think anything being discussed is about them personally."  He did
not, however, have any solid facts for this, so he expounded on the
divorce stats instead.

But there's actually some evidence out there, if you know where to
look.  No one is doing studies looking for solipsism in women, but
observation certainly suggests the presence.
[http://www.forbes.com/sites/dailymuse/2012/09/19/3-career-lessons-that-men-know-and-women-dont/]

> According to Linda Babcock and Sara Laschever in their book _Women
> Don’t Ask: The High Cost of Avoiding Negotiation_
> [http://www.amazon.com/Women-Dont-Ask-Negotiation-Strategies/dp/0553383876],
> “Women often worry more than men about the impact their actions
> will have on their relationships. This can prompt them to change
> their behavior… sometimes by asking for things indirectly,
> sometimes by asking for less than they really want, and sometimes by
> trying to be more deserving of what they want (say by working
> harder) so that they’ll be given what they want without asking.”

 In other words, women have a greater sense of self-importance and
sensitivity to their personal actions than men -- signs of solipsism.
 Remember, solipsism isn't "selfishness", as many Manospherans
mistakenly believe; it's more akin to "self-involvement", and that can
be a positive or negative thing.  A woman can be completely giving to
the people in her life, sacrificing much, and still be _utterly
solipsistic._  By putting nearly every issue in terms of_ "how does
that effect me?" _or _"how do my actions effect others?",_ THE FEMALE
SOLIPSISTICALLY MAINTAINS A FRAME THAT HAS HERSELF AT THE CENTER OF
THE PICTURE.  She might be "self-less"...but she still has the "self"
front and center.

 If possible, try this exercise sometime: when you're in a group that
solicits volunteers, say for the decorating committee or the outreach
board or the weasel rescue squadron, or whatever, LISTEN CAREFULLY TO
HOW PEOPLE VOLUNTEER THEMSELVES.  MEN WILL HAVE A TENDENCY, I THINK
YOU WILL FIND, TO OFFER THEIR HELP WITHOUT QUALIFICATION OR
EXPLANATION, AND LEAVE THEIR PARTICIPATION OPEN-ENDED: "WHAT NEEDS TO
BE DONE?"

 Women, on the other hand, will tend to lead with their reservations
and exceptions, their level of participation and explain in detail
just what they can and cannot offer in terms of resources.  THEY'RE
PERSPECTIVE TENDS TO BE MORE "WHAT CAN I DO?"

 It's a subtle, but extremely telling indicator of solipsism, I admit,
and it's not universal.  It's subject to the same maddening
variability most female psychological issues
are, comparatively speaking.  But if you passively observe how men
and women take different approaches toward volunteering their labor
and resources for the collective effort, you can see a hint of
solipsism.

 Further, the constant demeaning of their own ego and accomplishments
some women demonstrate in an effort to "not hog the spotlight" or "be
a bossy show-off" is actually another sign of solipsism.  A
non-solipsistic person (say, a typical dude) when asked to report on
something for a group, will usually go out, do some half-assed
research, slap together a half-assed report, and make a half-assed
presentation spiked with charm and humor.  When he's done, he sits
down relieved that it's over and he can go to lunch.  He may even
_forget that he even presented_, as one colleague of mine did when
someone congratulated him on his report.  

 His personal investment in the work is minimal, so his investment in
the response is minimal.  He's usually concerned more with the group
getting ahead and distinguishing himself in some way than he is in how
people think about him.  One of the advantages of the male-centered
corporate world is clearly the "don't take it personally, it's just
business" perspective that allows men to fail, regroup, and continue
on without agonizing over their failure.  They simply aren't that
personally invested in it.  The "self" is missing.

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It's the kind of slap-dash, cocky shoot-from-the-hip attitude that
corporations love to cultivate in mid-to-upper management, because it
presents a low-key, calm and cool demeanor that seems completely
capable of handling crisis situations without a fuss.  Hence the dude
who phoned it in gets the attention of upper management for his lack
of solipsism (or his demonstration of intellectual laziness, your
pick).

 But a female colleague prone to solipsism will behave _much_
differently.  She may carefully research the topic, spend days
agonizing over the report's appearance and content, and then deliver a
mindfully-given oral presentation sprinkled with apologies,
acknowledgements of failure, pleas for understanding and mercy, and
other subtextual signals that all mean, in one way or another, _"I am
the focus, here, not the information, not the organization, just me
and whether or not I do well or not...and I've pre-supplied plenty of
reasons for the group's hamsters to reject me utterly for my poor
performance and pay me attention, or elicit sympathy from other people
who might appreciate just how hard I toiled on this."_  

 Afterward, if she doesn't get praise for her work, she obsesses about
what people "really thought" about her.  She assumes that they will
judge the quality of her work product based on their feelings for her,
not on the ultimate utility of the work.  I've seen that happen to
even savvy businesswomen: they get bogged down in the details of
personal perception and group dynamics and they take every. little.
thing. _personally._  

 If Bob checked his watch twice during her presentation, that was a
_deliberate slap against her._  If Wanda frowned at the wrong time,
it was because something she said in the presentation that conflicted
with Wanda's own plans or plots -- and that could be a good thing or
bad thing _for her,_ she'd have to watch it.  If Elaine came over
afterward and gave her some tips, then it was a _deliberate attempt to
sabotage how she performed in the future by _making her needlessly
self-critical.  Even a compliment on an improved performance leads to
a spiral of self-doubt, _"Ohmygod, he thinks I really sucked until
now!  He must hate me!"_

 In every situation, it is the woman and her performance or
contribution that was involved as the fulcrum.  Dudes don't take
things personally in business.  Women take everything personally in
business.  I'm no stranger to this -- I've worked most of my life in
female-dominated careers.  I've been the only dude in an office with
dozens of women.  I've worked for female bosses and had female
supervisors who, despite their success and achievements, constantly
analyzed and over-analyzed and dissected their own performances in a
way that would lead to public ridicule if demonstrated by a dude
(ridicule from other men -- women would just see him as either a
workoholic freak who can't lighten up or an anal-retentive whose
self-esteem was so low he couldn't help but obsess).  

 Dudes do the job and move on.  If we get pissed off about something,
_we get pissed off _-- we don't usually _worry._  Especially not
about what other people think about us in the organization, unless we
really screwed up in a big and spectacular way.  We're just not that
involved in these corporate careers the feminists envied so much.  We
know, in our masculine heart, that while we contribute to the success
of the endeavor, that we, personally, just aren't that important in
the grand scheme of things.  The  tendency of women to obsess over
just that seems to lend evidence to solipsism

 I'm born out by this observation by Forbes magazine recently, when
their Forbeswoman columnist, L.C. Coleman reported
[http://www.forbes.com/sites/dailymuse/2012/09/19/3-career-lessons-that-men-know-and-women-dont/]:

> ..female counterparts with equally great (or better!) ideas fell
> prey to subtly career-sabotaging “nice girl” blunders like
> over-explaining, APOLOGIZING UNNECESSARILY, using minimizing words,
> being the last to speak, and believing that others know more than
> they did, just to name a few.

 MISTRUSTING YOURSELF IS STILL SELF-INVOLVEMENT AND DEMONSTRATES
SOLIPSISM.  Worrying that Jim took offense to something you said
about his department during your presentation and obsessing over
everything he says or every look he gives you (when Jim was probably
just staring at your boobs and wondering what kind of underwear you
were wearing today and missed the whole perceived barb) is almost
uniquely a female response, AND SUGGESTIVE OF SOLIPSISM.  Worrying
that others perceive you as too aggressive or too pushy, and taking
steps to undercut your own performance, are equally more feminine, AND
MORE SUGGESTIVE OF SOLIPSISM.

 If you're looking for a source for this, look no further than the
Female Social Matrix -- the Swingset.  Remember, the Matrix (a node
of which is formed when any two women communicate or work in the same
proximity) is constantly seeking Consensus, and each node is
constantly attempting to influence that consensus without appearing to
actually lead it.  

 The perception among many, if not most women in the corporate world
is that the Consensus sees that pushy, self-aggrandizing, loud and
borderline-incompetent behavior is frowned upon in the business
environment.  AND THAT'S TRUE -- AS FAR AS IT GOES.  When women work
in an environment with other women, and the Matrix rules are in
effect, THE RESULT IS THAT OTHER WOMEN IN HIGHER POSITIONS WITHIN THE
MATRIX WILL USE JUST ABOUT ANY EXCUSE TO KEEP YOUNGER, MORE
ATTRACTIVE, AND POTENTIALLY-SMARTER WOMEN FROM GETTING TO THE TOP OF
THE CRAB BASKET.  

 If that means casually "suggesting" proper demeanor and attire to a
young "protege" that will help them "get along around here", the older
woman has effectively spiked any future competition with the woman by
subjecting her to her own Hamster, spinning madly about why everyone
thinks she's a bitchy slut now for wearing those shoes and
interrupting that time.  I saw this happen to a housemate, once.
 She was a young undergraduate in her senior year taking pre-medical
classes at a major private university.  She had a part-time job as a
lab assistant on campus.  Within a week, three different (female)
colleagues came by her desk to "helpfully" tell her that the damn
male-oriented, male-dominated Administration unofficially frowned upon
women who used their sexuality to distract from their performance, and
any "provocative" clothing would be a sign that she wouldn't be taken
seriously as a scientist.

 She took the news to heart, and started to wear far more conservative
clothing (she had been pretty demure to begin with) until, when you
added her lab coat, you had the academic equivalent of a burkha.  Her
boobs were safely hidden from the eyes of professors and grad students
alike, she put her gorgeous hair up all the time, and she wore glasses
instead of contacts.  She dropped her number at least two points
through selective wardrobe, hair, and make-up choices.  And yes, she
was "taken more seriously" -- while the three harpies who "helped" her
made a point to flirt outrageously with every man in the
Administration. 

The higher-positioned within the Matrix have a vested interest in
seeing other women do well...but not _too_ well, and _never_ AS WELL
AS THEY DO.  They have spun solipsism into a subtle art, using
ostensibly friendly, sisterly overtures, or opportunities for
"woman-to-woman mentoring", to undermine and sabotage potential rivals
while publicly maintaining the illusion of a united front.  

 The higher-positioned woman _USES THE YOUNGER WOMAN'S OWN SOLIPSISM
AGAINST HER_, encouraging her to look at herself not just as another
chick trying to achieve in a hard work environment (as her male
counterparts do), BUT AS A _DE FACTO_ REPRESENTATIVE OF THE WIDER
FEMALE MATRIX, and therefore both responsible to it and subject to it
in the name of Consensus.  Feminism, in particular, is an insidious
method of Consensus-building, because it has implicit within the idea
that a woman who does not participate in the Feminist Consensus is an
ostracized traitor to her own gender, not merely a cog in a corporate
machine trying to make it to the top.

 In other words, she uses the younger woman's solipsism to utterly
undermine her confidence and assertiveness, while scoring Matrix
points for being "helpful" to a sister in the icky old world of nasty
mens.
And the natural result of this sabotage?

 When it comes to determining where to spend their time and money,
investors reward confident sounding entrepreneurs the same way that
supervisors and mentors reward confident and assertive protégés.


Now, if you're still doubting, then consider this: there are a
plethora of articles out there about how a woman can survive and even
thrive in a "male-dominated business world" (I prefer the term "male
designed-and-created business world", but I digress).  That is, we
have women talking to other women.  Importantly, even those these
women are in the same meta-Matrix, the reader and the author don't
personally know each other, so it's safe to think that the advice
contained therein will be free from personal, solipsistically-driven
cattiness.

 In 7 Ways To Excel In a Male-Dominated Workplace
[http://www.thedailymuse.com/career/7-ways-to-excel-in-a-male-dominated-workplace/],
author Jane Fang advises women to speak up for themselves, as opposed
to waiting patiently and quietly for their work contribution to be
acknowledged.  Good enough advice -- if you don't ask for a raise,
you probably won't get one.  But then she follows with superb
demonstration of female solipsism, as well as the FSM's perspective on
how organizations should be run:

> Sadly, most bosses are too busy to figure out WHAT THE MOST
> EQUITABLE PROJECT ALLOCATION IS, and it often comes down to who
> yapped last to them about that hot media deal or the new partnership
> your company is launching. 

 Emphasis mine.  The reason this is compelling is that this is a
woman speaking to other women, offering advice that must be needed or
it wouldn't have been said.  Anthropologists and historians use that
standard all the time -- if a medieval monastic order has an ordinance
prohibiting carnal knowledge of goats, then you can reasonably assume
that the violation of goats was a serious enough problem to warrant a
rule.  Similarly, if the problems above didn't exist, no one would
write about them and no one would read them.  

 But notice something about the bolded section: the whole way she
frames the issue is telling: the focus isn't on individual achievement
or the achieving the ultimate goals of the company, THE TWO AREAS
WHERE DUDES ARE MOST LIKELY TO FOCUS, but on _whether or not the boss
was "fair" and "thoughtful" in parceling out the work_.  That's a
pristine solipsistic perspective: while focusing on individual
achievement is often self-centered, it's rare that individual
achievement in an organization comes at the expense of the goals and
purpose of the organization. The solipsistic nature of individual
women and women in general ("The Matrix") put the emphasis not on the
ultimate goal, but how that goal was achieved and whether or not it
was fair and equitable.  

 For men, the issue is the RESULT.  For women, the issue is the
PROCESS.  

 It doesn't matter to men how the work was parceled out: the greater
the challenge, the greater the achievement.  Tell a man to do the
impossible and he's got a good chance to do it, not because he was
fair and thoughtful about who on his team deserved the best parts of
the project, but because he put everyone's egos on the back burner and
focused their attention on the goal.  

 Tell a woman to do the impossible, and she accepts that you've asked
her to do what can't be done (at least by her and her team) and
therefore abandons all but nominal allegiance to the result and
focuses almost entirely on ensuring a fair distribution of the
workload. She doesn't see a greater challenge as an opportunity for
greater achievement -- she sees it as a personal attack and an attempt
to question both her leadership and her ability.  SHE is at the
center of the equation, and by extension her team is.  All that
matters is that everyone was treated fairly and equitably at the end
of the day, and no one can blame her if they weren't.

 A result-oriented perspective on work and other issues gives men a
decided advantage in business.  They can simultaneously push for
individual achievement and distinction AND work tirelessly and
selflessly toward a common goal.  Even if leadership barely
acknowledges their contribution, everyone within the Male Social
Matrix (a weak and anemic thing, compared to the FSM) knows that Jim
screwed around this time while Bob burned the midnight oil and came up
with that thing that saved the company millions.  And they'll talk
about it at lunch, too, or call each other out if things get heated.

 But women?  A process-oriented approach to work often decreases
institutional momentum toward a specific goal.  When the focus is on
whether there are enough shovels to go around, and who has to take
turns, and not on how much dirt everyone moved that day, the social
friction created by this solipsistic perspective is a serious drag on
performance.  But even if the goal fails, women will still look on
their experience as a "victory" if _the way _they did it was agreeable
to everyone.  By worrying about themselves and how to ensure fair
play and a level playing field for everyone else -- and assuming that
everyone else is also worrying about those things first -- women allow
their solipsistic nature to cloud their perspective in business.  

 [http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-r8dYkyn6eQU/UFowt09g0jI/AAAAAAAACV4/yoAT3aKkqR0/s1600/images+(37).jpg]

 I got called out on this once when I was early in my secretarial
career.  It's instructional.  It's also long and involved, so I'll
refrain from my usual post padding with pretty pictures of
pre-feminist pin-ups and let you focus on the story.  Besides, I'm
leaving for Las Vegas in a few hours with Mrs. Ironwood, and I really
can't spare the time.

 But this is an observational example of the Tangled Chains On The
Swing Set of Solipsism that is implicit in the female character.
 Susan, pay attention: this might be technically anectdotal, but I'd
hope you credit me with at least being able to make an objective
observation about the subject.  Note that some names have been
changed, because I couldn't remember them all.

 About 18 years ago I was working in a medical office with 13 women as
a temp, and we were all destined to slave away for weeks on digitizing
old records.  While we weren't being paid based on how _much_ we did,
the fact was that there were 15,000 files to get through, a monumental
job by anyone's estimation.  I was the only dude (again!), the rest
were women ranging in age from 21 to 58.  The FSM with a Southern
accent.

 15,000 files among 14 people gives you about a thousand per person.
 We could each do about a hundred a week, if we worked steady.  By
the end of the first week, I'd made my quota and then some . . . but
it became clear that not everyone was being as dilligent.  I posted a
list of employees along with how many completed files they had for the
week, just to show everyone where we were and how much we had ahead of
us.  I thought it was pretty innocuous -- wasn't that the point,
getting the job done?

 Apparently not.  Within two days my list disappeared and I was
called into my supervisor's office.  The list was on her desk.

 "What exactly are you trying to accomplish here, Mr. Ironwood?" she
said, reprovingly.

 "Uh . . . digitizing medical files?"  I really didn't understand
what the problem was.

 "Of course you're digitizing medical files!" she said, exasperated.
 "And I can't help but notice that you did more than everyone else."

 "Thirty-five more," I said, proudly.  "I figure I can get another
five done a day, if I press myself."

 "Stop it."

 "Huh?"  WTF?  Wasn't I here to do a job?

 "I said _stop it_, Ironwood.  Stop posting this list -- it's bad for
morale.  Did you see Betty in the break room?" Betty was in her 50s,
on her third career, and was slow as January molasses when it came to
processing files.  I could get five done in the time it took her to
do one, and she hated the computers and the computer system.  She
didn't even really understand what "digitize" meant, but she made
cookies and always was the center of conversation, a kind of matronly
figure for the other women.  "She was close to _tears,_ after she saw
herself at the bottom of the list.  And you have Angie and Courtney
at each others throats, because they're running neck and neck and
Angie is convinced she's better than everyone else."

 "But . . . I did more than twice what Betty did!" I protested.  This
was crazy.  We had a job to do, a quota to fill, a definite metric of
progress . . . and I was getting yelled at for paying attention.  To
object to my work because I was "hurting someone's feelings" implied
that a) emotional feelings were important to getting the job done, of
which I was unconvinced, and b) I was somehow responsible for my
co-workers feelings to begin with.  Shit.  I was just grinding
mindlessly at data entry.  

 "That's my point!" she said with a disgusted sigh.  "You're trying
to make everyone else on the team _feel bad_ about the job they're
doing."

 "Uh, shouldn't they?  I mean, you could fire Betty and let me grind
through her stuff and probably save--"

 "MR. IRONWOOD!" she bellowed.  "The only one in danger of losing
their job is _you_.  I will _not_ have a disruptive influence on my
team.  You trying to promote yourself over everyone else, clearly,
and you're trying to sow dissension among your teammates.  What are
people _supposed_ to do when they see this list?"

 "Uh, _work harder?_"

 "They're going to start getting _competitive_.  They're going to
start to stress out that they aren't keeping up.  They're going to
start to blame each other for falling behind, and then every lunch
hour will turn into a big bitch fest about who isn't doing their
part."

 I shrugged.  "Doesn't bother me -- I work through my lunch."

 "You _WHAT?_"

 "I work through my lunch," I said, slowly and deliberately.
 "Because I've got a_ thousand_ and change of these things to get
through, and I don't want to spend the rest of my life here doing it."

 "You_ know_ you don't get paid for that!" she said, her nostrils
flaring.  "I don't want to see that on your time card!"

 "Oh, no problem.  I'm just trying to get the work done."

 "You're just trying to _sabotage my team_," she said, eyes narrowing.
 "_No more_ working unpaid during lunch. _No more_ posting stupid
lists to start fights.  Got it?"

 I answered in my best Blue Pill Beta ass-kissing tone, and then went
back to work.  I was so angry that I redoubled my efforts -- the male
ability to work through problems through work was in full bore.  I
got nearly two hundred done that second week, but the following Monday
morning found me once again in my supervisor's office.  Her nostrils
were flaring already, and I knew I was in trouble.

 "What the hell is _this_, Ironwood?" she demanded.  "I thought we
had a word last week!"

 "We did!" I said, confused.  "I didn't post _anything_.  I'm _not_
working through my lunch.  I'm _not_ claiming anything extra on my
time card!"

 "Yet you still finished almost _three times_ as many files as Betty
did."  She said it like I had walked up to the old biddy and slapped
her.  "She was in here this morning, crying her eyes out, because
she's worried I'm going to let her go."

 "And that's _my_ fault?"

 "_You're_ creating an environment that's hostile to her," she said,
falling back into Personneleese.  "_You_ are deliberately trying to
turn her co-workers against her."

 "How?" I demanded.  "All I've done is sit at my desk and enter
data!"

 "Oh, I think you know _very well_ how," she said, eyes narrowing.
 "And I won't put up with it!"

 "I'm still in the dark," I shrugged.  "Unless you can elaborate
further.  Can I go now?"

 "One more thing," she said.  "About lunch..."

 "I told you, I didn't put my lunch on my timecard.  Consider last
week a gift."

 "It's not that.  You're the _only one_ who doesn't eat lunch in the
employees lounge."

 I shrugged again.  "So?"  Honestly, it was the _las_t place I
wanted to spend the precious half-hour that divided my day.  I didn't
eat lunch at all most days, I just went out to my car and smoked
cigarettes and read.

"So I want to remind you that company policy says that the _only_
place where you may eat is in the Employee Lounge."

 "I'm not _eating_," I shrugged.  I did a lot of that on that job.
 I figured that would handle it.  It didn't -- my boss looked at me
like I just spit on her.

 "You don't _eat?_" she asked in disbelief.  Lunch was the sacred
birthright of every clerical worker.  My co-workers started
discussing when lunch was, what they brought or ordered that day, and
the glories of lunches past nearly every morning like daily prayer.

 "Not lunch.  Why, am I _required_ to?"  I admit, I was a little
sarcastic at that point.

 "No," she said, slowly.  "But the rest of your co-workers would
appreciate it if you would _join_ them."

 "Why?" I was really confused about this -- I was getting the definite
impression that my co-workers were forming a Consensus against me.
 "I don't eat, I just read.  They're too loud to read in there."

 "Nevertheless, I want you in the lounge at lunch time," she insisted.
 "And I recommend you eat _something_.  You're making your
co-workers uncomfortable by not _participating_."

 "In _lunch?_" I asked in disbelief.

 "Courtney and I talked last Friday, and she mentioned that it was
strange that you didn't sit in with everyone else.  In fact, you have
apparently become the topic of some speculation, Ironwood.  You
disappear for the entire lunch period, then come back and barely say a
word to _anyone."_

 "I . . . I'm just _working,_" I said, even more confused.  "I'm just
sitting in my car reading." 

 Her eyes narrowed again with suspicion.  "Are you _really_, Mr.
Ironwood?  Because that's not what your co-workers think."

 I waited.  I didn't say anything.  I was getting _pissed._  She
waited for me to defend myself, or to give a good excuse for my
behavior, or something.  But I wasn't playing.  Even back then I
recognized her baiting tone as a shit test.  And even back then I
knew how to deal with an obvious shit test.  That's one difference
between men and women in the workplace: when a dude has had it, that's
it. She wanted me to ask _"so what do my co-workers think?"_ with
some level of concern, and I wasn't biting.

 "Your co-workers think you're flirting with the receptionist across
the hall."  She said it as if I'd bent the poor girl over and ravaged
her.  She was attractive -- but I'd only spoken to her twice, she was
engaged, and at the most I'd smile at her through the glass doors of
her office as I went in and out of the building.

 "Well, I have a girlfriend," I protested (yes, this was when Mrs. I
and I were shacking up, albeit seriously at that point, and at the
time I resented the implication.).  "I'm not flirting with anyone!
 I'm reading a book in my car!"

 "You aren't where they can _see_ you," she emphasized.  "That's a
problem."

 I just stared at her blankly.  "Why . . . is where and how I choose
to spend my lunch time . . . of any _possible _concern to anyone other
than myself?"  I tried to be diplomatic and logical.

 "The problem, Mr. Ironwood, is that your actions lend to the
perception that you are . . ." she trailed off, suddenly at a loss.

 "That I am . . . what?  Molesting puppies?  Smoking dope?  Abusing
myself?"  When stated in those terms, she started to look silly, and
she knew it.  And yes, I actually said 'abusing puppies'.  I still
remember that.

 "The perception that you are not a _team player_."  

 "Yet I perform at twice the level of . . . some other co-workers," I
pointed out.  "How is that not being a 'team player'?  And how is
spending lunch by myself . . . or the perceptions of my co-workers . .
. relevant to my job performance?  By every objective metric I've
been an ideal employee.  I'd be happy to review my performance with
my agency, if you'd like."  The threat was implicit -- if this kind
of thing continued, I'd get the temp agency involved.  While that
wasn't the end of the world, it would call attention to the matter,
and my boss was in the same social circle as the owner of the temp
agency.  I knew that.  I might not be in the FSM, but I know how to
use it.

 "Just . . . conform to the company policies as they are explained to
you, Mr. Ironwood.  That is all," she dismissed. 

 While I was seriously resentful, I also needed the job.  Cushy temp
work in the air-conditioning paid a lot better than construction or
waiting tables.  Beside, I was still enough of a Puerarch to want to
subvert the whole operation just to spite her.  So I appeared to
knuckle under and concede.  I started spending my lunches in the
employee lounge where I was subjected to all sorts of inane feminine
chatter.  My one concession to eating was bringing in a single,
phallic banana every day, carrying it around with me wherever I went,
and then devouring it in seconds at the start of lunch.  After that .
. . well, I can't read when thirteen women are comparing their
weekends and jockeying for matrix position over microwavable pasta.
 There's just too much distraction.  

But I can write.  I'm a writer, everyone knew that.  I had a book
and everything.  It was easily the most interesting thing about me.
 I started bringing a notebook to lunch with me, and I would sit over
in the corner and write stuff down.  Sometimes I doodled.  No big
whup.

 Enter Female Solipsism: the practice had an _immediate _and
intriguing effect.  Suddenly, everyone in the building was extremely
interested in just what I was writing.  And it became A Thing.

 Because every woman there was convinced -- utterly convinced -- that
I was writing stuff about _her_.  Specifically, stuff that was
_unflatterin_g to her.  She was _sure_ of it, be she 21 or 51.

 If that isn't solipsism, I don't know what is.

 It only dawned on me that this had become A Thing when Courtney,
mid-20s, came to me after lunch and actually flirted with me for the
first time.  Courtney was office hot, definitely doable, but she
clearly had a higher opinion of herself than I did.  Still, I was
polite, if laconic.

 "So," she said, after meaningless bullshit.  "Whatcha writin'
about?"

 It took me by surprise.  "Oh, just character sketches and stuff.
 Notes.  I'm working on a new book."  I didn't mean anything by it
at the time -- I'm a writer.  I've been "working on a new book" since
I started writing.  It's a stock answer.

 Courtney, however, took it to mean (rather solipsistically) that I
was writing a new book . . . about her.  Or the someone in the group.
 She asked me more probing questions, and as I figured out what she
was trying to do, my answers became more and more vague and mysterious
and she got more and more agitated.  I hadn't given her _one single
piece of concrete data_, yet by the end of the day 'everyone knew'
that I was writing a book about Courtney.  Or someone in the group,
but Courtney was pretty sure it was about Courtney, otherwise I
wouldn't have been so mysterious.  In FSM terms, Courtney had used
the episode to "push" herself up in position, because a dude writing a
book about you is incredible attention, the coin of the realm in the
Matrix.

 The next day, _four women _approached me before lunch with
meaningless reasons, and all four managed to mention my writing
somehow.  I didn't take the bait.  My notebook remained on the
corner of my desk until lunch.  At lunch, now that I was aware of the
interest in my book, I began to take notes with more purpose.  In
fact, most of the stuff I was writing down had _nothing to do_ with
anything or anyone in the office.  But it was the way I wrote it that
perpetuated the myth.  I waited until there was a break in the
conversation, for instance, and then scribbled something down
furiously while everyone in the room watched and tried to keep from
looking like they were watching. Then I'd stop, the conversation would
resume, and I'd wait for another break.

 As an experiment, I decided to pace my notes based on which woman was
speaking.  I picked Margaret, one of the older women, for no real
reason.  Every time Margaret opened her mouth, I was writing.  It
took a few times before she was aware of it, and then she got
uncomfortable.  Then some of the other women clued into it, and were
immediately abuzz.  Margaret started blushing, and ended up excusing
herself to the ladies' room.

 I hadn't said a word.  It was fucking _hysterical_.  In the literal
sense.

 By the end of the day, everyone was _certain_ the book was about
Margaret.

 The next day, I focused on Lisa, and wrote down stuff mostly after
she was talking.  Lisa got flustered, too, but instead of running and
blushing, she started paying a lot more attention to her diction and
word choice.  Half-way through lunch, I switched and did the same
thing with Courtney again.  After lunch, Margaret approached me as I
was heading back to my desk.

 "You know, Ian, I really don't appreciate that!" she said.

 "What?" I asked, genuinely confused.  

 "You writing about me in that notebook," she accused.  I almost
smiled.  Instead I affected a confused expression.

 "What do you mean?  Who said I was writing things about you?"

 "Everyone knows-- look, I'm just a very private person, and if you
want to know anything I would appreciate it if you would come to me,
personally, and not rely on other people.  Okay?"

 "Uh . . . okay," I agreed.  Not only had she assumed that I was
writing about her, she was absolutely convinced that I was talking to
other women in the office about her.  

 Every day that week I ground away at the pile of files and then
amused myself with the luncheon Solipsism Floor Show.  It became a
game for me: how little could I say and do and still inspire wild
speculation about my "book"?  Just how much of a tizzy could I
through these ladies into . . . without doing a_ damn_ thing but my
job?

 IF WOMEN WEREN'T SOLIPSISTIC, THEN IT WOULDN'T HAVE WORKED.  AS IT
WAS, IT WORKED _SPECTACULARLY_ WELL.  

 Wednesday it was a divided room, as I wrote only after the younger
women (less than thirty) spoke, and ignored the older women.
 Thursday, Janet -- who hadn't spoken two words to me the entire time
I'd been there -- started pumping me for information about my life and
my book over in the corner.  I gave her as little as possible, and
gave her no false information, and figured I was just frustrating her.
 Only I didn't realize what she'd done -- with our little private
conference, she'd made it appear to the Matrix that she had the inside
scoop, and she used that leverage brutally in the free-for-all that
followed.  

 That afternoon, when I was coming back from the Men's Room (the
Fortress of Solitude, I called it), I caught that old biddy Betty
trying to slyly leaf through the notebook.  

 "Excuse me?" I said, coming up from behind her and slamming my hand
down on it.  "Is there a problem?"

 "Oh, I was just looking for some staples," she said, airily.

 "There are none in my notebook.  Check the supply closet.  That's
where I'd put them."

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