"Allegedly," the deniers of conspiracies will say on behalf of themselves. "It's only allegedly, there is no such club," they will attack scornfully, deny firmly and do everything to convince us women that it's all in our heads.
They will look us straight in the eyes and say quietly, "Flug was not the most suitable candidate, there were better suited candidates." And then, when we wake up at the end of a way too long sleep, we'll ask while flickering our eyes: "If that’s the case, why did you appoint her deputy governor? Why did you nod in agreement when Stanley explicitly said that she was the right candidate to inherit the position? And if we may, just another small question: Would you really dare do this to a deputy of a different sex?"
At this stage, most probably, one of you would clear his throat, like certain men in the club tend to do at tense moments, and say: "This is a purely professional consideration. The most qualified person for the position of governor was chosen, and any insinuation or another proves once again that a feminist discourse in this context is irrelevant to the issue."
At this point we will no longer be able to stand your indifference, you popular guys. We may lose our temper, we may even demonstrate completely unfeminine behavior and slightly raise our voices: "You haven't got the guts," we'll say.
"You simply don't believe a woman is capable of leading the glorious system you built with your own rough hands. Or worse: You don't see her integrating in cocktails with deep-pocketed influential bankers, engaging in males' small talk and getting the job done properly."
We'll understand if you leave the room silently, rush to your important jobs, and try to take comfort in the fact that she went home without making too much of a fuss.