work

I've been reading lots of feminist criticism and praise for Mad Men. While most of the blogs have been about how far we have come since the 1960's when men, along with sexism ruled the world. I cannot help but feel like we have not come that far at all. Maybe it is the area I am living in or the roles I have chosen or my place in society. Either way the issue that keeps coming up is sexual harassment and how it no longer happens in the work place Mad Men style. Men in our society now simply do not pull an act like I saw in one of the Mad Men commercials. That is staring a woman up and down, commenting on each element of the woman's outfit and her body. How each little thing, from the color of a woman's hair to the buckles on her boots turn on her male co-worker or boss. Such sexism in our society is dead.

I've yet to fully understand or blog about the difficulties of working in a location that on the surface seems completely woman-friendly, yet deep down still maintains sexist roots. I'm still not completely sure how to judge my boss, as a sexist pig or just a typical boss.

A recent situation make it even more difficult to separate work, friendships, feminism and attitudes. Even worse to determine if what I was seeing was sexism maybe even sexual harassment in action or a simply a stupid joke. In my workplace nothing is simple and sides are never easy to choose.

What occurred was that one night one of my co-workers complained that the contractors who were remodeling the store kept staring at her breasts and checking out every girl that worked in the store. I couldn't really do much about this unless they were being extremely obvious or made a comment which they did not do. So I went on doing other things I needed to get done. While I was working in customer service, this co-worker starts talking to our computer guy who usually only comes in late at night or early in the morning. Lately he also had been working on the remodel. She starts telling him about how the contractors were staring at her "tits". He comments that they should have been staring at her ass. My co-worker stomps off.

I work part time in a bar, and I have worked there on and off for years now. This is mostly due to convenience but also because I really like the people who I work with (most of the time) and it fits into my school schedule as I can be at school in the day and work at night. Most of the time I just kinda turn up, do the job, listen to drunk people talk to me all night about how I am wasting my time at school and should just take the general manager’s job they keep offering me at work (I would rather be run over by a bus, I think), but sometimes I hate the place more than anywhere on earth.

This last weekend marked the end (finally) of the Rugby season in my village. I look forward to that every year, as I work in the local bar, and do get tired of the drunken idiots from the rugby club pinching my butt as I work and urinating on our door. On Saturday night the local rugby club had their annual prize giving at our bar as we sponsor their club. I had to work, much to my disgrace, but cash is not exactly flying into my wallet these days, so of course I agreed.

About half way through the evening, most of the wives/girlfriends of the guys at the event had drifted away from the drunken crowd of men and were leaning on the bar chatting to the four of us who were working. We were all pretty unenthusiastic about the event and it was when one of the women mentioned that it might be nice if the women who attended the damn thing were actually included and spoken to, that I asked why we don’t actually have any Women’s sports teams in our village, other than one Netball team, and why don’t we have a women’s rugby team, soccer team, cricket team, when there were so many men’s sports teams playing for our village each week. Most of the Women sitting at the bar laughed loudly and wished me good luck with that one, as most of the time we are barely allowed to stand on the sidelines let alone participate and actually play. But a few of the younger gals expressed interest in being able to play some sort of sport.

When I got out of the shower tonight I stood in front of the mirror for a good five to ten minutes just looking at myself. I was scared by what was staring back at me in the mirror.

Time to do anything but work, blog, eat and sleep these days is limited. I don't put on make up, I don't really do my hair, I never really stand in the mirror naked or half dressed. So I haven't noticed that being skinny has now become looking scary skinny. No one else has noticed either. I guess my t-shirts and baggy clothing is covering up the reality; that I have become Nicole Riche very scary skinny.

The first clue was that my bathing suit, a juniors small was kind of baggy when I put it on last weekend at a pool party. I of course covered up in gym shorts and a t-shirt so no one noticed, but I thought it was kind of odd. Clue number two was that I rubbed my back earlier today (I have my period, so I am having lots of back pain) and I didn't feel the normal layer of fat under the skin. Just my hip bone.

Today I worked a 9 hour shift at our local health food store. Tomorrow is Rosalynn's first birthday party at my sister's house and she would like us to be there by noon, for a party that's at 2 . Which means I will be getting up at 10, if the baby doesn't get up before then. I still have at least a cake to make, maybe two. Things to clean, diapers to wash and a baby to take care of. My boyfriend is busy sleeping.

Even with Nik not working (he lost his job), working part time and having a baby is a juggling act and a hard one. Partly because I am still expected to act like a stay at home mom, while at home, while I am also expected to act like an employee at work. In both cases I am thinking about other things, while in both environments. Both are causing me to space out completely. I almost charged someone $1,116.00, instead of $116.00 in groceries this morning. Oops. When I left I forgot to check my schedule for this up coming week, I hope I don't forget to call in and ask.

It has been a very long time since I have written here at AGA, and I must say that I am surprised that my blog remains here, and I am thankful that I am still able to write in it. There are many things I have observed/done/heard recently that propel me to write again.

I got a job in February at a grocery store near my house. I have made a solemn vow to never let myself work in fast food, and prior to obtaining a high school diploma, this is really the only other option for me. It isn't a terrible job, although the pay is low and the customers are sometimes... less than happy, to understate the situation. I have a great opportunity as a cashier there however, because this grocery store is the heart of the neighborhood surrounding it, and is probably the reason "the ghetto" doesn't exist in Lincoln.

It's been said that gender roles aren't really defined in children until they are four or five years old, and wouldn't be nearly so extreme if it weren't for pressure from parents and peers- e.g., a Family Almanac column in my local paper featured parents that were extremely worried over their 3-year-old son's interest in Disney Princesses. I support the notion that it isn't the kids themselves that learn these roles, and here's a small anecdote to support that:

I babysit a little girl fairly regularly. She's going through a phase now where she likes to play House, and insisted that she got to be the mommy (I got to be the daddy), and a stuffed animal of hers named Love was the baby. After these decisions and after hosting a party "for the neighbuhs," she put on a pair of fancy shoes that were impossibly large for her, some binoculars, a doctor's kit, and a hat.

Guys I realize it has been forever and a year and I intend to get back on track (it seems like I say that a lot lately)...

This month, October, has been a month of broken dreams and trying moments. First off, a dear friend of mine was arrested and incarcerated. It is not necessarily a surprise, we all saw it coming, but his troubles still hurt me deeply and I found myself somewhat depressed over it.

Secondly, I found out that someone I have known my whole life is HIV positive, and rather than being supportive, many of the people this person is close to have blamed and shunned this new status. I feel worst of all because I know how commonplace the disease is and how horrifying it can be, but I feel as though I can say nothing because I am too young and not close enough. It is a powerless feeling.

I'm doing ok after my grandpa's death. This weekend, after a two-day romantic hiatus with my boyfriend, I will read a yet-to-be-written tribute at his service.

But remember that dirty old man at work? Who I talked to my manager about? He's yet to cease and desist. So I just composed this to corporate:

August 16, 2006
[address of office here]

Dear Sir or Madam:

Hello, I am a supervisor at the Downtown store. For the past two months, I have been intermittently working day shifts as well as at night, as I’ve been out of school. While working lunches, I have noticed some truly disturbing behavior from [dirty old man].

"We can talk about anything you want, as long as you're naked." – Striptease (1996)

In the Christian Bible, Job was a man who was tortured by his God as a test of his faith. Poor Job ended up being the pawn in a heated argument between God and Satan. Today, we use the word "job" to refer to a torture that we endure as a test of our sense of irony. We're pawns in a heated battle between very different gods: corporate masters, enslaving the masses in a whole new social division known as "the middle class."

We middle classers don't have it too bad. We are expected to possess proficient English skills, but only moderately so, and may still engage in some enjoyable slang without fearing reprimand from our fellow MC'ers. We are expected to dress in a humble Wal Mart wardrobe, and can do better if we please, but don't have to wiggle into any corsets. We can afford fairly amusing entertainment, with a constant flow of Hollywood blockbusters to satiate any discontent amongst the masses. We even get to paste little patriotic stickers on our cars, so that we feel connected to our leaders. In general, we're a fairly well-taken-care-of population.

Feeling a lack of identity reading that summary? Sort of swallowed up in a mass statistic? Read on…

I quit my job a little over a week ago and already I am bored out of my mind. The bright side is it seems like I quit just in time; with the temperature outside apporaching a 100 degrees, walking almost a mile in black pants and a dark shirt wouldn't be a good idea.

Yet, I am bored. So, I have been doing what any other unemployed teenager would be doing: watching hour after hour of TV. One of my favorate channels has always been Discovery Health. I have always found genetic conditions interesting and they do alot of speicals on such. As a pregnant woman, interest has turned into concern.

Too many men, and even many ladies, think that equality has been, or at least very nearly been, established.

Except for the fact that women still make less, single mothers are often punished for caring for their children, insurances cover Viagra but not The Pill, and oh yeah, that little gem of pharmacists can refuse to fill contraception/EC prescriptions.

So why is it that when sexism is so apparent, and inequality so blatantly obvious, that I'm the bad guy for pointing it out? Why do I "care too much," as one guy who was trying to date me said, when I speak on the behalf of women?

I'm so sick of feeling like I have to be apathetic, or at least muted in my exasperation.