We recently moved and with that comes an opportunity to purge what you’ve accumulated over the years. It’s only fitting I labor over Labor Day weekend so I tackled a few boxes full of stuff from my early years of employment after finishing college. Within my first hour of sorting, I came across some photos that visually reminded me of how this company took great liberties in broadening the traditional definition of workplace benefits.
It was the mid-80s. Unemployment remained fairly high. I was fresh out of college and dream jobs were elusive. I found employment at a private company that manufactured and sold a line of higher-end sunglasses and a complete line of helmets for biking, hockey and kayaking. It was owned by a man, and mostly staffed by men. I was a customer service/marketing rep who spent hours on the phone with our clients, making sure they were selling our products so our owner and his male cronies could get richer with every call. It was often a fun and casual environment. We sponsored some athletes, and I had the opportunity to attend trade shows and work on some of the marketing aspects. That part wasn’t all bad.
Even though we’d reached the late 80s, sexism and cronyism were alive and well, and me and the other seven females at the company were its targets. The boss hired his buddy as the CFO who’d recently parted ways with his long-time employer. Even in my young 20s, I wasn’t naïve enough to miss that his liquid lunches may have contributed to his employment challenges.
Our newest accountant, fresh out of college, was expediently promoted over our longer-term accountant, a woman named Pat who was reliable, trustworthy and carried exemplary credentials. But, Pat was “older” and divorced, maybe 45, and she just didn’t fit the boys club mold.
Jill staffed our front desk. Jill was bubbly, fun and friendly, and Jill’s deficit in the mental acuity area was made up for with her large boobs and young, beautiful face.
My boss Barry, worked hard at being lazy. They didn’t pay us minions poorly, so I can only guess what Barry hauled in. He always managed to ride up in a shiny, new car and do very little each day, except find time to put both feet up on his desk and occasionally grab his crotch.
I’d been there about three years when, on my birthday, the males in the office and from the warehouse, pooled their funds to bring in a male dancer. Around 10 a.m. while I was in full concentration mode inside my cubicle, I’m told there’s a delivery for me, and Jill escorts the “gift” back to my space. My gift was a Man-Boy, a very hairy Man-Boy who activates his boom box and possibly started singing. Honestly, things are a little blurry after all these years, except the pictures.
At some point Manboy ceases singing and starts stripping, tossing his clothing pieces my way. His medium-sized white ass gets very close to my face and he begins pulsating over me, taking it all off down to his Hawaiian-looking banana hammock, grape smuggler, pickle pincher, or whatever name you want to call it. Not workplace attire!
If that wasn’t humiliating enough, he keeps pumping and grinding as my colleagues all gather, mostly all the male ones, to watch my face turn red and my sense of dignity quickly evaporate. The men laughed, clapped and heckled. After all, it was all in the name of fun, as defined by them.
Reflecting back on this humiliating incident, I’m reminded how far we’ve come since the late 80s, yet how far we still have to go. Men may no longer offer you a “workplace benefit” in the form of a birthday stripper without being fired (one would hope), but sexism and a host of other “isms” still exist. We have more work to do.
This weekend we honor the labor movement. Enjoy your Labor Day and the unofficial end of summer.
Debra Carnes is a working mom by day and blogger by night. You will find this post and others on her blog, A Touch of Clash.