{30 to 30} Tell Someone to Eff Off

This instance was probably one of the side affects of reading Caitlin Moran’s How to Be a Woman, which I had just finished.

Today, I was driving into work, just getting into the parking lot. I was going seven miles an hour, not five. The sign says five, dammit!

At seven miles an hour, I almost ran over one of my co-workers. This old, grey-mustached man.

And by “almost ran over,” I mean that he was on the other side of the parking lot when I was speed racing at seven miles an hour.

Seven! Miles! An! Hour!

I parked, got out of my car and saw that the grey mustache was waiting for me by the front door. As I approached the door, he said, “You know, I don’t want to say anything about women drivers …” Then he smiled a huge, sarcastic grey mustachio smile.

“But you’re going to anyway?” I shouted back, a little louder than I intended.

Can you find the sarcastic one!?

Still smiling that sarcastic old man smile.

Before my brain processed it, I blurted, “I can’t drive with my boobs, Rick.”

That got rid of that mustachio smile. Now it was a confused/stunned mustache crooked line of a mouth.

“Let me know if you figure it out!” I said as I was still about ten good paces from the door.

I walked the rest of the way to the door, with him standing next to the entrance, and we awkwardly stared at each other. I was thinking, What the hell was that, Julie? You sassy pants. When I finally got to the entrance (seemingly twenty minutes later), mustache opened the door and let me in first.

Since I have always been a good girl, I immediately imagined my boss calling me into his office in about fifteen minutes to “discuss” this situation. Probably with a witness from HR.

Goodness sakes, what did I just do?

But I went to my office. Got to work. Adrenaline speeding as fast as I do in parking lots. Fifteen minutes came and went. Nothing happened.

When lunch came, I thought I would just heat up my enchilada and then race back to my office without anyone seeing me. Kind of like this:

But, alas, I was discovered by Señor Mus-douche himself as I stood next to the microwave. I saw him in my peripheral. I wasn’t going to look. But I decided I needed to put my sassy pants back on and face him. Maybe a little less aggressively this time.

He leaned in and said, “I’m sorry for earlier.” My turn to wear the confused/shocked crooked mouth! “I didn’t mean to offend you,” he quietly said.

Wow, I thought. Someone’s been watching his HR training videos! 

“And I’m sorry,” I said, turning to face him and whispering, “for talking about driving with my boobs.”

“It’s OK,” he said. Then he smiled a 1972 porn smile. With the mustache and all.

Good grief. We still have some more HR sensitivity training to do with the mustached one.

But until then, at least I have something to add to my {30 to 30} list! I put on my sassy pants and stood up for myself. It is hard to do, especially when we live in a culture where women are supposed to be nice. But when someone’s being sexist, I can’t just let it go. At its most basic element, it’s rude. And people shouldn’t be rude to me for no reason. So if I need to wear my sassy pants every once in a while, I’m going to face the ramfications head on.

Plus I think I can rock these sassy pants.

80s workout

Kicking sexism in the face, mother effers!

*   *   *   *   *

Here’s what we have so far in my journey of {30 to 30}

1. What to do in the next year

2. Give up on the search for a BFF

3. Host Christmas

4. Have a white Christmas

5. Be Nicer to my Niece

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About julieschicklit

My book blog is dedicated to finding books, stories & ideas that redefine women's literature to be something smarter & funnier. More RAWResome lit for ladies. I am remaining some-what anonymous because I have a day job. My Man-Beast and I are soon going to live abroad in China, so that's why I'm a reblog-aholic.

21 comments

  1. I simply adore Sassy Pants Julie….but as my Granny would say to you “Well Ms Sassy Box … look what trouble you almost got yourself into!” hehe Keep on standing up for yourself.

    P.S. I’m loving the 30/30 🙂

    Penelope Jones

  2. I commend you for your restraint, actually, in not telling him to simply f* off. Perhaps he’ll think about what comes out of his hairy pie-hole in the future. In my opinion, women are the first to accept responsibility for whatever the situation with a prompt, “Oh … sorry!” to avoid conflict. He didn’t deserve that much consideration, so good for you!

  3. rubybastille

    Hey, that went well! I will have to remember “sassy pants” – it’s so versatile!

  4. I love that you even have this on your list 😀

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  9. This story, and that last picture, just made my day!

  10. Thanks for the great chuckle, and great choice of pictures! I just love the allusion to the1970’s pornstar moustache 🙂 Here in France there’s no way a man would get away with talking to a woman like that. The first time I blew a gasket was when a taxidriver in Nice cut me up, inches from destroying the wing of Helga the faithful VW, then had the gall to yell at me. He was a little suprised to see me roll down my window and call him a fat, misogynist git, with a strong English accent, accompanied by two fingers waving in the air. I’ve never looked back 🙂

  11. Delightful. I think you were very restrained. I probably would have been much worse (evil grin).

  12. A truly delightful story!

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  14. Thank you for not only sharing that wonderful story of not being stepped on by the patriarchal status quo and also for coming to my blog so I would have the good luck of finding yours and seeing it;-)

    I’m currently dealing with a sexist jerk who 10 minutes after meeting me(in my garden in grubby baggy gardening clothes) demanded sex-since I am poor and female and he is rich and male, he assumed this would work I guess. When it didn’t he has spent the last 5 years since then stalking and harassing me, poisoning my garden, breaking my trees and generally being a *lovely* neighbor.

    I only wish I’d thought to take the sassy pants method of blurting what came into my mind at the time “Whoa Old Dude! Get a grip!” which might have resulted in a bit more respect and less drama and wackery since then!;-)

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