*crawls*
So.
Let me, for one moment, talk about my job.
I love it. I fucking adore it. And, miraculously, there is only one part of my job that I would gladly break down and dispose of like so little bodily waste.
The stereotypes.
Anyone that knows me, know that Stereotypes are among my pet hates. So let me make this clear, right now, to builders and plumbers of the world.
*ahem*
JUST BECAUSE I HAVE BREASTS, A VAGINA, AND OVARIES DOES NOT MEAN I CAN'T TELL THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A HEX BOLT AND A DYNABOLT.
For christ's sake. I'm female, not retarded. My father is a builder. His father was a builder. My other grandfather is a disel engineer. I walk around in steel cap boots, AC/DC shirts, and torn jeans. Yes, I can use a power drill. I don;t need you coming up to me and saying 'Ahaha, are you sure you have a license to drive that thing?'
Yeah buddy, that's fucking hilarious. Especially when you drive a forklift into a hole, right after asking me if I'm ok to use a hammer.
Twice.
One more fuck up with that forklift, and you get the next tow free. There's a big hole in the ground, do you need oestrogen to realise that if you drive a forklift into it, IT WON'T COME OUT AGAIN?
Clearly.
Don't get me wrong. I love the guys I work with. Jacque, Carl, and Chris are all sweethearts (Mostly because they're not as old as the other guys, and know that I can beat them when it comes to construction any day.)
It's the older guys that piss me off.
Dave, for eg. He's a darling, and I know thaty I can learn so much from him. but when I am WITH a customer, it's not funny to come up and ask me if I know the difference between a screw and a nail.
Yeah darling, the screw is going up your ass, and the nail is going straight down your throat.
I know I'm the youngest. And I know I don't have any experience. And everyone around me is well aware that I am female. But please, teach me. Don't ridicule me. If I come in on my day off to put together displays as a favour, I don't want to be hasselled. I just want to fit in.
And the customers are guilty as well.
'Would you like some help getting those 50L bags of compost out to your car, dear little old lady?'
'Oh yes, that would be nice! Will you call someone?'
'No that's all right, I'm happy to come out and do it for you.'
'Oh...you, dear? Shouldn't you get a man to do it?'
That pisses me off. I'm a big girl, in every sense. I have thighs, hips, breasts and a stomach. I also have very, very strong arms. That's what happens when you can't use your legs on an off for four years. You lift weights.
I just wish people wouldn't push me into a corner and asume that there's a list of things I can't do, because of my gender.
It's true, I'm not a plumber. I am still learning about my dept. I know the difference between a bayonet Cap and an Edison Screw, and I can sell you the right kind of polish for your car's enviroment and paint job, as well as how much heat the engine puts out and how often you use it.
But I am still learning. The only way I am going to get better at my job, is if you stop boxing me up and passing me off as a helpless girl.
Because I am just as tough, masculine, and handy-andy as the rest of you. Stereotypes, or no stereotypes.
But I'll say this - it's going to be damned infuriating if I come out. Every day I get a little closer to flannel shirts and a mullet.
Let me, for one moment, talk about my job.
I love it. I fucking adore it. And, miraculously, there is only one part of my job that I would gladly break down and dispose of like so little bodily waste.
The stereotypes.
Anyone that knows me, know that Stereotypes are among my pet hates. So let me make this clear, right now, to builders and plumbers of the world.
*ahem*
JUST BECAUSE I HAVE BREASTS, A VAGINA, AND OVARIES DOES NOT MEAN I CAN'T TELL THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A HEX BOLT AND A DYNABOLT.
For christ's sake. I'm female, not retarded. My father is a builder. His father was a builder. My other grandfather is a disel engineer. I walk around in steel cap boots, AC/DC shirts, and torn jeans. Yes, I can use a power drill. I don;t need you coming up to me and saying 'Ahaha, are you sure you have a license to drive that thing?'
Yeah buddy, that's fucking hilarious. Especially when you drive a forklift into a hole, right after asking me if I'm ok to use a hammer.
Twice.
One more fuck up with that forklift, and you get the next tow free. There's a big hole in the ground, do you need oestrogen to realise that if you drive a forklift into it, IT WON'T COME OUT AGAIN?
Clearly.
Don't get me wrong. I love the guys I work with. Jacque, Carl, and Chris are all sweethearts (Mostly because they're not as old as the other guys, and know that I can beat them when it comes to construction any day.)
It's the older guys that piss me off.
Dave, for eg. He's a darling, and I know thaty I can learn so much from him. but when I am WITH a customer, it's not funny to come up and ask me if I know the difference between a screw and a nail.
Yeah darling, the screw is going up your ass, and the nail is going straight down your throat.
I know I'm the youngest. And I know I don't have any experience. And everyone around me is well aware that I am female. But please, teach me. Don't ridicule me. If I come in on my day off to put together displays as a favour, I don't want to be hasselled. I just want to fit in.
And the customers are guilty as well.
'Would you like some help getting those 50L bags of compost out to your car, dear little old lady?'
'Oh yes, that would be nice! Will you call someone?'
'No that's all right, I'm happy to come out and do it for you.'
'Oh...you, dear? Shouldn't you get a man to do it?'
That pisses me off. I'm a big girl, in every sense. I have thighs, hips, breasts and a stomach. I also have very, very strong arms. That's what happens when you can't use your legs on an off for four years. You lift weights.
I just wish people wouldn't push me into a corner and asume that there's a list of things I can't do, because of my gender.
It's true, I'm not a plumber. I am still learning about my dept. I know the difference between a bayonet Cap and an Edison Screw, and I can sell you the right kind of polish for your car's enviroment and paint job, as well as how much heat the engine puts out and how often you use it.
But I am still learning. The only way I am going to get better at my job, is if you stop boxing me up and passing me off as a helpless girl.
Because I am just as tough, masculine, and handy-andy as the rest of you. Stereotypes, or no stereotypes.
But I'll say this - it's going to be damned infuriating if I come out. Every day I get a little closer to flannel shirts and a mullet.