08.26.05

One of the stressful things about being a woman in a retail environment is that you're trapped. You're caught in a situation where you're supposed to be helpful and friendly, and there are men who are so starved, or so arrogant, that they mistake that for a come on.

A man came in to the shop yesterday morning to make copies. It was bad enough that every time I spoke with him, his eyes darted down to my tits. Disconcerting, because I'm wearing a button-down shirt and an electric blue apron with a bib that comes up to my neck. We ain't talkin' alluring here. He went on and on about how he's a musician, and how I should come to see him play on Tuesday nights at It's A Beautiful Pizza. Oh, be still my beating heart, Mr. Crypto-Sensitive, Ponytail-Wearing, Wispy-Soul Finger Fuzz-on-Chin-Having, Creepy Dude. Everything about him screamed User and Abuser of women. He finally paid and left.

*deep sigh of relief*

An hour later, he shows up again to make more copies. My mangler was in the shop this time, and he had to use my computer. I grabbed the pillow that I've got on my chair (thin seat, me with not a lot of padding) and stood behind him, watching what he did. I had the pillow in my arms (holding it like a teddy bear, I'm ashamed to say) while he worked. The creepy copier guy finished, paid and, as he was leaving, mentioned that he'd like to be the pillow.

ICK!

I wanted to leap up on the counter, brandish some sort of sidearm, and yell,
"Not if you was the LAST man on Earth!" (Read that in your very best homegirl accent.)

What I did was ignore it. Pulled out that old etiquette advice to ladies when confronted by a double entendre; even if you understand it, don't let on. Nips any untoward behaviour in the bud--generally.

Later that day, my mangler and I were talking about men and women--as we do--and the story about the pillow came up. My mangler (and I do have to come up with a better nickname for him) shuddered as I told him the story. We talked about, as a woman, I feel trapped and like a target. How can I avoid situations like that?

On one hand, I'm supposed to be cheerful and helpful. On the other, I'm at work, and deserve to be treated with respect. I am not in the shop for any jackass' delectation.

People have told me that I should be happy for the attention. I'm supposed to be grateful that any man would deign to address me with libidinous intent? Un-fuck 'em. And don't kiss my ass. In fact, walk out the door, keep going, and re-adjust that bullshit all-women-are-here-for-my-pleasure attitude.

Gads. (Can you tell I'm a bit peeved?)

It's that Catch-22; if I talk to someone, I'm a flirt and leading them on. If I'm stand-offish and professional, I'm a bitch.

Aaaaaaaaaaaggggggghhhhhhhh.

Now go. Be fabulous.

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