Time To Bring Out The Big Guns

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I can put up with alot. I can good-naturedly show middle aged men sports cars all afternoon while knowing all they are doing is checking out my butt and then listen to the dealership talk about it for the rest of the afternoon.

I can pretend most innuendo wasn't directed towards me. Hey! You were probably talking to the only other woman I work with--Jersey Girl--with the big poufy eighties hair and camel toe slacks.

I act like I don't understand that the whispering, giggling, pointing and commenting is sexually related. But the fact you tell me and even closely point to every. single. spot. on my shirts is a little suspcious. Paticularly in the boob area.

I carefully choose my words at all times. Simply because ANYTHING is construed into inuendo. Simple truthful statements. Innocent statements. Statements which I had no desire to make at all sexual.

I can handle the lack of chivalry, abundant stupidity and general dickweedyness. After awhile, it begins to wear on you, but you learn to ignore it. And, after awhile, you kind of forget where the line is. The line of: I Will Ignore You Because You Should Not Be Acknowledged As A Human--Since You Are My Superior You Really Should Know Better.

Today. The line was not only trampled, generally ignored and completely erased, but it was not even acknowledged. Maybe I am overreacting. Maybe I am simply Porkchop with a flair for the dramatic. But, tell me what you think:

I was standing outside in the middle of the parking lot with my arms, fingers and appendages made for holding, full of items. Screws, license plates, screwdrivers and paperwork overflowed my arms. I could not hold another thing to save my life. My boss, seeing this, decides this is the opportunity to give me back my pen, which I did need. Since I couldn't hold another possible thing I, completely unthinking of the miles of sexual fodder it will give him, ask him to "Please stick it in my mouth."

His reply?

"Ahhh! That's what I love to hear a woman ask me. To stick it in her mouth!"

I was speechless.

"Excuse me?!?!"

"I thought you would never ask, but god! It's good to hear!"

At that point, I turned and walked away. There were so many things I WANTED to say as I fled, including "Just so you know--I'm biting it." But, there were customers, YES, HE SAID THAT IN FRONT OF CUSTOMERS. And, I was honestly flabbergasted that he, my boss, would say such a thing. I could expect it out of my co-workers, but my boss?!

It really begins to wear on you afterawhile. You constantly feel like a piece of meat. And you know the sad thing is?! I am not really that attractive. I know I am not ugly, but, it isn't like I am mobbed on the street for pictures. And that is what baffles me. Not only are they pigs, but they are stupid, stupid pigs. Why risk GETTING YOUR ASSES SUED?!

Porkchop is out of witty things to say. Porkchop is tired. Porkchop, for the first time in her life, actually feels discriminated against for being a woman. Porkchop used to say that was the biggest bunch of bull she had ever heard. But Porkchop is starting to believe that maybe it could be true. Porkchop realizes that it is a gift to be a woman, and she can use it, and she should glory in her femininity, blah, blah, blah. Porkchop realizes (thanks to some super great cheerleaders) that she has what it takes to make it in this business. But Porkchop is just FED UP AND TIRED.

And for the first time in Porkchop's life, she actually wished, for a moment, that she was asexual.

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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