Mashed Taters and Creamed Corn Cake
Nervously she rose from her desk and walked to the photocopiers, huddled centrally in the large open plan office. She breathed deeply. How ‘odd’ it was that he happened to need some copies at the same time as her. Again. Almost every single time.
Once again the absurd dance, where he pretended to go the wrong way, into her, and ‘accidentally’ they bump into one another. He lent around her once again, to ‘help’ with the buttons, as if she needed any help!
Oh, and how odd, also, that he stands on the far side of the machine, how awkward to use thus, as she walks away toward her desk. She wonders if her back hosts little burn marks where his eyes laser into her – worse, not her back; lower down than her back.
Day after day after day she must endure this .It happens on the street as well, of course, everywhere in fact, even actual wolf-whistles, still, here in the twenty-first century.
At work she should not have to put up with this (not anywhere), she has heard the stories of course. The lewd comments offered by the manager when another young female colleague finally complained.
She came to this office with such high hopes. She knew that she would make a difference, make a mark at this prestigious firm. And she could, has in fact, is doing. But she is hollow inside. They snidely take the credit for all her great work, everything she does so well.
She hasn’t actually heard the jokes yet, but the sudden awkward silence whenever she comes into the communal kitchen is enough, surely.
It’s just ‘bantz’.
On and on, this echoes down the centuries, self-fulfilling and damaging all of society.
Human race held back by its so called ‘great’ men, the achievements of fifty-plus percent ignored, or stolen. Talent stifled and squandered. And why? Power? Just pathetic male egos, threatened by someone more able then they – but only if woman.
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