Wednesday, July 22, 2009

An epiphany of sorts

I work for a company that has 120 employees at its peak. Of the 120, 6 of us are female. I'll let that sink in. One more time. Six of us are female. Out of 120. It is the epitome of "working in a man's world."

When I tell folks about my typical day at work, many folks are shocked. Mostly about the stuff that comes out of my mouth while at work. I drop f-bombs quite liberally. I make all kinds of hand gestures. Today I threatened to flog one of the guys. And one of my coworkers regularly threatens the guys with punching them in their throats. It's a weird dynamic. We have made them fear our ire. I also know they recognize that we're smart. We can do stuff that they can't. And I'm not talking about giving birth. It's a question of why they treat us as they do -- the fear of bodily harm or the respect of our intellect.

Being at work is like being around my dad's family to me -- I'm just one of the guys. Like I said previously, I don't wear skirts or dresses to work that often. When I do, it's like I'm not really one of the guys anymore; I'm that chick with legs. And I like being one of the guys.

I also like to protect my wardrobe as I often have to go into the warehouse. And there was that time I climbed the ladder. As a result the guys keep joking about sending me out on walks. OK with me. I make good money but they make even better. They know that I want to understand everything that they do. The thing that I have learned through my experiences in life is that if you're female and give certain guys a doe-eyed look, they'll tell you all kinds of things. Things that can help you get a better job. And sometimes my inner feminist screams her head off but then I tell her, "By any means necessary." Because it's not like there's any sex or stuff like that. Well, maybe in their minds but can I help that?

What got me going through this whole train of thought was this song. (Wish I could have embedded the video but apparently it's not allowed. And yeah, I still love this song.)

I can tell the guys to kiss my ass, to fuck themselves, whatever because I bail their asses out just as many times as I tell them what they can do. And if I didn't, I would have been laid off when the receptionist was. Then again she never told them to kiss her ass so maybe there's something to it all.


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