Like an Italian Prostitute

Before I begin today's rant post, this is going to include more tidbits from our beloved General Manager here at The Asylum. If you're going to get annoyed that I keep complaining about it, yet refuse to do anything.. well.. I don't blame you at all, I'm a little annoyed with myself, but be forewarned that I probably won't ever report him. I just need to vent, and more importantly, use his comments as fuel to drive me to find a better job.

I'm not that strong woman who takes on the establishment in those Lifetime channel movies. I'd be in the throws of an anxiety attack so fast your head would spin if I even considered trying to tell anyone.

Sooooo anywho...

The day after his little bikini comment, which, if you could see the ample fabulocity that is Mahala, you would understand was intended to humiliate, not compliment, the GM was still feeling a little froggy. Conveniently, at a time when everyone else was out of the office, with Lulu on her walk and Bossholio out in shipping, the GM wandered down the hall and stopped at my cubey door.

I'd like to take a moment to stop here and point out that I am still the only one left in a cubey, in the effin' hallway.

But I'm not bitter.

Much.

The GM looked at me and smiled that creepy, old pervert smile, his nicotine stained grin causing me to shiver... and not in a good way.

"Hey sweet Mahala," he crooned. Then, he looked around, sat his coffee on my desk and moved around behind it, blocking me against the wall. He put his arm around my shoulders, giving me a squeeze and whispering in that low, gravelly voice, "You sure turn me on."

The GM is a tall man. His position put his... business... right by my face.

A strong woman would have jumped up, slapped his nasty old ass into next week and told him to go to hell.

But me?

I laughed it off and told him he needed to learn to control himself. My reactions to his bullshit cause a hailstorm of self loathing, but not enough for me to grow a pair and do anything different.

This morning, when he spotted Lulu and I chatting in the hall, he said we reminded him of those women who stood along the streets of Italy back when he was in the Navy.

I'm pretty sure he wasn't talking about frumpy old ladies, but that's what we dress like here, lest we excite the pervs. After he moved up the hall, I told Lulu I was getting kinda tired of being compared to a prostitute on a daily basis. She agreed. Whenever she's out on her daily walk, the GM says, "Lulu's out street walking again."

I went back to my desk, dug around in my bag and found my clip on nose ring, some giant hoop earrings (yes I carry them with me... don't ask) and picked out some warpaint.

I can look like an Italian hooker if he wants. I said I wasn't that strong, I didn't say I wasn't a smartass.

Anywho...

That's the latest. I'm calling another company that I have a resume in with this morning. Keep your fingers crossed.

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters.



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7 comments:

Anonymous said...

Girl I so hope you can get out of there. I know how you feel on the cube placement. I am the only person here that doesn't have my own office with a door. (this includes the warehouse guy) and my cube sits in what used to be our lobby. And no I'm not bitter either. NOT AT ALL. Keep applying, there has to be something better than that somewhere. That is what I keep telling myself anyway. It gets me through the day.

tiff said...

Dude - report him.

kenju said...

Tiff is right. You can't keep on letting that happen. Losing a job is better than losing self-respect, Mahala. You're too good for that.

BetteJo said...

Ideally, of course - report him. Realistically - get another job first. It's amazing to me that cavemen like that still exist. And it has to be a horror putting up with his shit. You don't have to lose your self-respect because you stay until you can find something else. Not all of us have bunches of options, and creeps like him take advantage of that. Please don't misunderstand, I'm not saying - oh let it go, like it's part of what you have to do to have a job. I'm saying - document the whats, wheres, and whens, and when you do find another job - present your documentation to the powers that be. I mean really, what are you gonna do if you quit now? You have to be practical and I think that while he deserves it - it takes strength not to wallop him right in the nads.

Or you can always get him on tape and blackmail the mother-effer!

Aarin said...

i woulda throw his coffee on his crotch, told him if he harassed me again his 'boys' wouldn't be scalded next time, they'd be cut off and fed to a bear, then go about my day in peace

b.fez said...

I've been in this situation before, and believe me, I regret not doing what I'm going to recommend you do:

Get numerous comments from Mr. MicroPenis on audio tape. Report him to the corporate personnel office. If they dare to fire you, get an attorney and demand a settlement from your employer for subjecting you to a hostile work environment, and non-enforcement of a sexual harassment policy (which they probably have, but don't publicize or enforce). You will win.

rennratt said...

I've said it before, I will say it again:

Contact the Labor Board.

I speak from experience.

Good luck.