|Few years ago, I had a job in this incredibly sexist coffeeshop. The owners were brothers who were constantly trying to create this "gentleman's club" for the other guys that worked there - nevermind the women on staff. But the money was okay, the manager seemed decent, and it was a hip place to work at the time, so I stuck it out.|
One afternoon, my manager, out of nowhere, asked me if I was wearing a thong at work. I probably wasn't even 20 at the time and because no one ever talked to me that way in that environment, I didn't even respond. I walked around nervous, feeling violated in a way I couldn't explain or understand (honestly, until years later). But later that same day, the other guys at work were teasing the manager, who also happened to be a painter, about "slinging his paint" around in his apartment with his girlfriend, and I nearly lost it. I quit soon after, and that memory has haunted me for years. The mental image I have of that guy, throwing his juice around his apartment, assumedly in the direction of his girlfriend, makes me cringe even now.