... (<- gosh how I love those dots ... ) I'm not asking for advice, per se, but maybe after you read my short story, you'll tell me what you believe you would do ... I already know what I'm going to do.
Brief History: Years ago I was C O O L. Today, it's official, I'm no longer cool. Not even remotely.
Yesterday, after a busy morning off -- it's all relative -- I worked at home for my husband, rather than at my job for my boss -- I ran to deliver CAT Scan films to the oral surgeon and headed to the local hospital to visit a friend from work who had been in the hospital for about a week.
Before I ran off to do the delivery and the visit, I carefully groomed myself, sans makeup because of the cryosurgery of a few weeks ago; nice blue twin set, gold hoop earrings, gold chain and cross, gold ring, a teeny, tiny bit of scent. I'm not the girl I used to be and I am okay with that.
I arrived to work and got down to the tasks at hand. My boss came in to the office and greeted me, left, came back ... it's how our days go, usually. Some days we don't see each other much at all, others we are busy, busy, busy.
Later in the afternoon he came in to the office and on his heels a co-worker followed him in. This co-worker is not a superior of mine. Thankfully. My boss said something along the lines of, but I cannot quote it exactly, "You know Kathy, when I saw you earlier, I was going to comment how you looked like .... a nice Catholic girl." Which made me chuckle. As he knew it would. We are friends beyond our working relationship.
But there was more .... right up there where the like ... a nice, on those dots, inject another male party having his say, which I heard, but didn't get. And so I ignored it because I was paying attention to my boss.
My bosses comment, 'I was going to comment how you looked like .... finished with the other male party saying, 'a M.I.L.F.'
Had I know then, what I found out today, besides the fact that I am totally out touch and not cool at all, I'm sure I would have shot up out of my chair and been over the desk tackling this fellow ... rather quickly. How dare he presume to say anything like that to or about me?
My defense would be justifiable rage. This *(%#&* has been, er, doing things and saying things to the women who work here, for the last twenty years or more. Soon to be twenty-one for me. We've all been 'hit' at one time or another, some more than others. We all keep some kind of tally sheet in our heads. I don't know if others keep them on paper or not, but I do.
I tend to forgive but not forget because, well, I have to work with him. I have no choice. He is not my boss, but we have to commiserate on some items and while it is distasteful on a good day, my demeanor is such that you wouldn't know that I can't stand this person. Pretty much at all any more. I used to try. I don't bother now.
Sad state of affairs.
Today, my boss came in and leaned down toward the desk, "Did you hear what he said yesterday?" Who? Nods head in the direction of his office. Uh, yes and no. I heard him, but didn't get it. "MILF? You don't know what that is?" Uh-no. What does it mean? Bosses face sort of pinks up and he's trying to tell me without embarrassing me or himself. He told me what it means, but he left off the last offense word. Didn't need to hear it once I heard the first three.
Did I feel like a dope or what? On the other hand, I guess it's a guy kind of thing. Best used between men and out of earshot of women who know what it means.
If you don't know ... reference the movie American Pie ... and if you need further clarification ... ask ... I'll explain.
I could make all manner of excuses for his inappropriate comments, gestures, remarks to others and about others, and even myself, but I'm not going to. We are all adults. The work climate is such that hostile work environs and sexual harassment should be non-existent. Wouldn't you think? Not so.
So, tell me, what do you believe you would do?