By Lindsay Toler
By Chad Garrison
By Brett Koshkin
By RFT Staff
By Lindsay Toler
By Riverfront Times
By Danny Wicentowski
By Pete Kotz
After three decades in sales, wearing starched shirts and pressed suits, weathering the ups and downs of commissions and the pressures of marketing everything from air-filtration equipment to mutual funds, Scott Matheis decided he needed a career change. So this year he applied for and got a customer-service job at Business Response Inc., a Creve Coeur company that provides telephone support services for a number of client companies.
Matheis, who started Aug. 21, was hired as a dealer-support manager. The $28,000-a-year position involved talking to Isuzu dealers by phone. He'd pitch sales incentives and advertising programs, authorize warranty work and assist the dealers in maintaining inventories of parts and special tools.
Matheis really liked his new job, and he liked his co-workers.
What BRI didn't know when it hired him was that Matheis also liked to dress in women's clothing.
For years he'd been a cross-dresser, but only on weekends. And since October 1998, he'd been on hormone therapy for gender reassignment. With the seemingly friendly and open-minded atmosphere at BRI, Matheis thought that maybe this office would be the place where he could formally "transition" from a male persona to a female one. As his own doctor had told him, no surgeon will consider performing a sex-change operation unless the patient first lives for a year or two in his or her preferred gender. He asked a friend who had previously worked at BRI whether he thought the company would allow him to make such a change.
"He said, "Yeah, the people there were all pretty easygoing people,'" Matheis recalls. "I had it in my mind from that moment on: This is the kind of place where I can transition."
Matheis says many people don't understand why he would switch his sex. Matheis says he's not a gay male. He's sexually attracted to women, and if he completes the sex change, he still expects to prefer women. He understands other people's confusion. "I'm just as confused about it myself," he says. "It's something that's been there for as long as I can remember, but was always shoved in the back -- "Boys aren't supposed to do this. Boys aren't supposed to do that.'" Nine years ago, after undergoing heart-bypass surgery, Matheis sought out a therapist to "cure" him of his cross-dressing habit. She told him she couldn't do that: ""She said, "I can help you to accept it and to explore it, the feelings deep down inside.' I didn't know whether to break down in tears because I was afraid of all the consequences of this thing and all the isolation that was involved or to jump up and cheer because finally, maybe, I'd be able to accept something in me I hadn't been able to."
Although he very much wants to have sex-reassignment surgery, he says it is unlikely he will ever be able to; he is a 50-year-old diabetic who has had several heart attacks. He explains how he views himself in this way: "I'm involved in a lot of masculine activities. I love to fish and hunt and that sort of thing. That doesn't change with your gender identity at all.... When I look in the mirror, I know that I am not female and that I am never going to be female with all the right equipment, no matter how much surgery or whatever. But I know that my mind and my emotions are very, very feminine. And I know that when I adopt all the trappings of femininity -- the attire, the makeup, a wig, etc. -- that I feel relief. I feel comfort. I feel like I'm who I should be, whereas in the past, I've always known that something wasn't right, and that carried over into everything I did, whether it was my relationships -- I've been married and divorced twice -- my relationships with women I was dating, friends, family. Nothing seemed to fit quite right. Now, when I put on this identity, yes, everything does seem to fit properly."
On Sept. 15, Matheis approached his supervisor and handed him a letter from his physician explaining that Matheis was being treated for gender reidentification, along with two drivers' licenses -- one with Matheis dressed in masculine attire, the other with Matheis as "Staci," in feminine attire. Matheis says his supervisor was supportive: "He said: "You've got guts! You have my support. Will you need time off for this?'"
Matheis says his other co-workers were, to varying degrees, supportive or accepting. The next Wednesday, he met with BRI's vice president of human resources, Linda Tyler. He says she asked whether he was familiar with the company's dress code for women, and she inquired about the potential reaction from Isuzu dealers if they learned of his gender identity. He says he assumed dealers would always identify him as a man over the phone, because his voice is very deep and would always remain that way. That Friday, Matheis says, Tyler called him into another meeting and told him the company "didn't want to make others uncomfortable." She repeated her concern that he might identify his preferred gender to the Isuzu dealers, and she asked whether he could wait to change attire until after he had undergone the actual surgery. She gave him a copy of the male dress code for the company. She also remarked that she felt Matheis had attempted to "deceive" BRI of his gender identity, because he'd obtained the letter from his doctor four days before beginning work, he says. At the same meeting, she accused Matheis of making inappropriate remarks at work -- once by jokingly asking a woman who worked at an Isuzu dealership in New York to marry him. She also accused him of making a sexually explicit remark -- about cutting off his genitalia -- while discussing a canoe trip with two women friends, which Matheis flatly denies.