Nothing like a bit of Dutch courage in the pub to pull up a dirty pervert for gluing their eyes to your mammaries, but it’s slightly different in the workplace.
Hot damn, there are a lot of perverts wandering the halls of workplaces everywhere, but I can’t really go chucking my daily can of Diet Coke in an inappropriate boobwatcher’s face in the office, whereas I wouldn’t hesitate dumping my Corona on their head if we were at the Story Bridge Hotel.
I’m not exactly giving Pamela Anderson a run for her money, but far out, anyone would have thought I had that day’s footy scores tattooed on my boosies by the way a former workmate used to stare at them. I’m a gals’ gal, so wasn’t super comfortable about a secondment to a team full of men in the first place, but Pervy McStaresalot certainly did not help the situation.
In fact, his line of vision was so permanently stuck on my chest it became a rather large workplace health and safety issue, because I threw my back out from crossing my arms so much at work. Poohead. You owe me about $300 in physiotherapy fees.
Maybe she lost her keys in there?
I live a relatively quiet life with the ladies – they don’t get out much, and we all like it that way – so it wasn’t like I was flinging them around or leaning over his shoulder in low cut tops. I don’t even own a low cut top.
The poor fella acted like these were the first set he’d ever seen and all he had to do was look down or in a mirror to see a set not that dissimilar in size to mine. Also, there was a rather curvaceous lass on the same floor who defied the laws of physics by not falling over every time she stood up – so why oh why was he looking at my moderately sized and therefore not so fun bags every time I had to talk to him?
Even though we sat in the same cubicle, I rather lazily and cowardly resorted to sending him emails so I didn’t have to talk to him. I also avoided having to stand in front of him wherever I could lest I trip and inadvertently find myself in an accidental motorboating scenario – shudder.
But it’s still a fact that indirect sexual harassment is alive and well in the modern work place. My delightful friend Elisa relayed a story about a work trip interstate, where a rather uncomfortable work dinner scenario played itself out.
After a lovely main course and a couple of friendly glasses of wine with her interstate counterparts and their national manager, it came time to discuss the most important matter of business – dessert. Strangely, her boss insisted on sharing a dish with her, but Elisa tried not to think too much of it, until her boss defined his idea of sharing a plate meant prodding her mouth with the pudding on a spoon toddler aeroplane style.
Figuring it would be less embarrassing to choke the mousse down, rather than wear it home, Elisa did so, but losing all appetite in the process. She then endured ongoing uncomfortable comments from her boss for the rest of the evening and unrelenting teasing from her workmates for the rest of her visit to the national offices.
But how do you address these thinly veiled crack-ons without looking like a whinging woman or drawing other workmates’ attention to the situation? (Aside… why is it women only being defined as whingers? Grrrr.)
…except if you’re Elisa’s boss, then absolutely not!
Well, you don’t. I’m sure my boss would have appreciated me storming into his office and saying ‘Alan*, unless you start paying Stuart* in $5 notes, so he can start shoving them into my clothing, I cannot continue to work here – my boosies and I cannot work under these conditions.’Because the fact of the matter is, apart from feeling quite embarrassed and finding it necessary to wear a sports bra and a skivvy to work every day, despite it being the middle of summer, it wasn’t really stopping me from doing my job.
So I am ashamed to say I let down the sisterhood by doing nothing. I just let good old Pervy burn holes into my Hooty McBoobs and silently willed him to go blind in the process. My secondment finally ended and I gratefully went back to my usual workplace, where 95% of my team carried the same booby burden as I did.
So, have you ever been on the receiving end of a slimy workplace mofo’s advances? Or, more interestingly, have you ever been the instigator?
It's Claire as mud 
You would forget its 2012, but alas its like working at The G Titty bar where you have constanstly wonder “did I spill coffee down my shirt again?”. Even moving away from construction and into finance hasn’t helped the lowing stares to chest level. What’s a modern woman to do without seeming like a fuss?
Claire, long time listener/first time caller, here. (wink wink)
I must say – I found this post equally humorous and accurate. Love it.
You know, I thought finally leaving the mining/construction industry after 10 years would mean leaving blatant sexism in the workplace behind as well. Yeah, I was wrong. It’s bad EVERYWHERE, isn’t it. I dunno about anyone else but I found the best way to deal with it is to hit them head on. I’m now known as the girl with catch phrases like ‘Um, inappropriate much? ‘, ‘You did not just say to me’ or, ‘Why do you keep leaning over me like that? I find it weird and uncomfortable’. I’ve never seen boundaries set so fast.