more adventures of XX in XYLand
I forgot to post about this last Wednesday...
What is cool: being invited to join my boss, his (sorta) boss, and co-worker in the Nice Seats at a Mets game. (note: our fair XX protagonist is the youngest, only woman, and only no-lawyer of the group.)
What is not cool: the President of the company asking, "Why are YOU so excited to go to the game?" When a co-worker responds that I'm an athlete, Prez says, "There's a big difference between watching sports and playing sports." When I say that I enjoy both playing and watching sports, but I love football the most among spectator sports, he says, "Yes, but have you ever PLAYED football." (Title IX wah? I should be at home mending my burka. My bad!)
What is not fucking cool at all: my boss asking me a nonstop string of questions exclusively about my tattoos (not showing, but mentioned b/c I was not wearing shorts on a hot day) and if marriage and children are in my future. "Don't you want kids?" like they're commodities...
What is not fucking understood after almost three years of employment: how not fucking cool it is to keep asking me about my body--be it the art on it, the wedding of it, or the use/disuse of it--despite repeated and direct requests to cease such questioning.
It is very, very difficult to swallow such rivers of shit in order to not, deary me, make a man uncomfortable about making ME incredibly uncomfortable. (That'd just ruin all the fun, now wouldn't it? And no one wants to be a spoilsport!) If the goal, however, was to keep me from ever attending another sporting event with the group, it didn't work; I'll just bring a recorder next time. Jackass.
A nod and thanks to Melissa at Shakesville for jogging my memory...
http://shakespearessister.blogspot.com/2009/08/terrible-bargain-we-have-regretfully.html
What is cool: being invited to join my boss, his (sorta) boss, and co-worker in the Nice Seats at a Mets game. (note: our fair XX protagonist is the youngest, only woman, and only no-lawyer of the group.)
What is not cool: the President of the company asking, "Why are YOU so excited to go to the game?" When a co-worker responds that I'm an athlete, Prez says, "There's a big difference between watching sports and playing sports." When I say that I enjoy both playing and watching sports, but I love football the most among spectator sports, he says, "Yes, but have you ever PLAYED football." (Title IX wah? I should be at home mending my burka. My bad!)
What is not fucking cool at all: my boss asking me a nonstop string of questions exclusively about my tattoos (not showing, but mentioned b/c I was not wearing shorts on a hot day) and if marriage and children are in my future. "Don't you want kids?" like they're commodities...
What is not fucking understood after almost three years of employment: how not fucking cool it is to keep asking me about my body--be it the art on it, the wedding of it, or the use/disuse of it--despite repeated and direct requests to cease such questioning.
It is very, very difficult to swallow such rivers of shit in order to not, deary me, make a man uncomfortable about making ME incredibly uncomfortable. (That'd just ruin all the fun, now wouldn't it? And no one wants to be a spoilsport!) If the goal, however, was to keep me from ever attending another sporting event with the group, it didn't work; I'll just bring a recorder next time. Jackass.
A nod and thanks to Melissa at Shakesville for jogging my memory...
http://shakespearessister.blogspot.com/2009/08/terrible-bargain-we-have-regretfully.html