When I was younger and Richard Clyderman ate my dust… Nah, come on, the question above is too broad, if you know what I mean.

Not that it doesn’t happen, but rather, it happens way too often in the real world. No anecdotes from me; I long ago devoted my efforts to being as unintimidating as possible.

“I don’t want you to think that you can just come in here, cross your legs, smile real pretty, and get anything you want. You probably can, but I don’t want you to think that.”

Heh, time for an oldie but goodie…

http://www.crapville.com/video_holder.asp?ID=701

Oh, wait. There is no FBS.

What?! What are all these meetings I’ve been going to, then? And why do they keep introducing themselves with “Hi, I’m so-and-so, and I’m an alcoholic?”

If there were an FBS and, indulging in even more fantasy for a second, if I were in charge of it, I’d hardly kick you out of it on the basis of these examples, about which I’d say:

First example: Hey, that’s just good customer service, and furthermore I am not going to make an arrest in the name of feminism just ’cause a woman wanted to get out of some drudgework. We do enough drudgework as it is.

Second example: The people who really had any power to abuse here? Yeah, those would be the people who enjoyed the privilege of being able to attend pool parties without having to scheme to avoid being thrown into the pool against their wills. I think they’re called D-U-D-E-S.

Third example: OH NO, a woman got out of mopping half a floor. This is an outrage! We must repeal the 19th Amendment immediately.

My own examples: I’m sure I’ve got them, but it’s been a while since I’ve played poor, dumb female. The reason I don’t get too irritated by women who do play poor, dumb female on occasion is something that occurred at my first software job.

We’d been doing some testing in a room not normally used for such, so I’d moved a couple of PCs in there and hooked them up, etc. When testing was done, I started unhooking them. Two (male) developers looked in and offered to help. “Nah!” I said, “I got it, thanks.” I then kneeled down to pull something or other out of a power strip on the floor. Kneeled down, and bent over.

I heard muttering behind me, immediately followed by one guy saying to the other through gasps and giggles, “Dude, stop that! You’re gonna to get us sued for harassment!”

Yeah, they’d been staring at and otherwise assessing the quality of my rear end.

So it’s a no-win: Play helpless, get help, and feel demeaned; or, don’t play helpless, do it yourself, and feel objectified. As long as that’s the no-win women have to deal with, I can’t knock those who pick Option A over Option B.