What DO they put in that coffee?

I stopped by Starbucks this morning on my way to work for a Happy Friday iced coffee for Leslie and myself, sometimes a little over-priced caffeine is just plain necessary. I left the store jazzed about my giant coffee but also asking myself the question: what kind of drugs do they inject their employees with because I WANT it!

I was in line for mmmm…say 1 minute and waited for my delicious beverage for another 2 minutes. In that short period of time the three employees remembered “the usual” for probably 75% of the customers. While this is probably more indicative of the frequency with which certain people stop for coffee – that’s damn impressive! They’re smiling, joking and remembering people’s drink orders at 7:15 in the morning. At 7 am, I may or may not know if I’ve brushed my hair yet much less be brightening people’s days with caffeinated beverages and toothy grins.

So…the coffee may be (and when I say “may” I mean “is”) overpriced, and Starbucks’ board of directors may be placing stores on every street corner possible (not to mention the Charlotte, NC airport which has 7) in a devious and single-minded bid for world domination, but it is clearly whatever kind of hybrid crack they are feeding their employees that is making it such a success.

Oddly Opinionated Liquor Store Guy

Ever have an encounter with a relative stranger, walk away and think:”What? Did that seriously just happen?!?”

I hear of these things happening mostly from my friends with kids. As a non-parent, I’ve always operated under the assumption that there’s nothing more obnoxious than a non-parent giving parenting advice. On the obnoxiousness scale it probably falls only slightly above a parent giving another parent unsolicited parenting advice, but none the less it is above it. So, in the endeavor of not being obnoxious or offensive in general, I have placed giving parenting advice on my list of things to not do without a significant arsenal as backup. Oddly, but probably not surprisingly, there are a number of individuals who do not share this philosophy and feel entitled to comment, intervene or otherwise involve themselves in others’ parent-child interactions. There is the random stranger in the store who stops and stares disapprovingly at the parent who just gave their kids butt a whack for running away in the store/parking lot etc. (The best response to this stop-and-stare judgment came from my friend Christina: “what? You want some too?”) Then there’s the unnecessarily helpful stranger playing Capt. Obvious. Example: “excuse me, did you know that there’s no child in that stroller?” A well-intended albeit probably needless comment, though the humorous response from the person pushing the stroller (“Yes, I left her here last night and am now coming to pick her up”) was not well received. If you’re going to ask a borderline stupid question, you need to be prepared for a borderline stupid response. While often well intentioned – it’s just odd the degree of involvement that some people tend to feel is appropriate in the lives and actions of complete strangers. This brings me to my point: Oddly Opinionated Liquor Store Guy.

There is a liquor store directly across the street from my apartment. It is slightly over-priced but convenient (walking distance) and endeavoring to be quaint by adding a P and an E to its sign (making it a Shoppe instead of a Shop.) The selection, while not excellent is decent, there’s an odd medicinal smell that makes you think that bottles of liquor are broken regularly and there’s always the same guy behind the counter, a reasonably innocuous looking Indian gentleman in his late 30s, early 40s. Every time I go into the store he has an odd, sometimes not very nice comment to make. The first time I went in, he refuted that it was actually my ID based on the height noted on my driver’s license. (I had on high heels – thus apparently making me unacceptably taller than my form ID claimed I was.) The second time I went in I was all dressed up for a Bachelorette Party and Oddly Opinionated Liquor Store Guy felt compelled to tell me that I was wearing too much make-up. The next time, my wine choice was disgusting. The time after that, no guy would date me if I drank beer. WTF mate! Every time I leave the store thinking…”what?!? Seriously?!?!” I just wanted the alcohol!

I wish – oh how I wish that I were quick enough on my feet to come back with a zinger. Something oh so clever and zippy that would end the commentary. Sadly all I can come up with is something not so quippy like, “mind your own business and give me my vodka fuck-face.” It’s not a very good come back – so I simply smile politely, grab my bottle of whatever and make for the door.

So-Much-to-Say is not a rebel....sigh....

Overall I would say that I am a fan of the quirky, happy-go lucky peeps who roll with two different sized tires and keep my day to day life from becoming mundane. In truth, I wish that I was more idiosyncratic. Or maybe I just wish that my idiosyncrasies were cute and endearing enough for public consumption. Sadly – every time I straighten my hair, put on a pair of GAP khakis and a white button down shirt and roll out to my 8-5 job I am struck by the futility of that thought. But I digress.

There was a lady in my Zumba class once – Pink Lady. Pink Lady started about 3 months after the class started, so combine noobie-ness with a knee prosthesis and a complete disregard of rhythm, and you have something truly spectacular. But I liked Pink Lady. I liked how when we shuffled to the left, she flailed to the front. When we gyrated to the back, she flailed to the right. She only really had one move (a move that didn’t really resemble any dancing that I’ve ever seen before,) but damned if she didn’t work that move to the max! She truly was a testament to people who “dancing to their own drum.” I don’t know exactly what drum she was listening to, but she was having a fabulous time doing it.

Flash forward to last night at the gym and enter Camel-Toe-Shorts Lady. Much like Pink Lady, Camel-Toe-Shorts Lady marches very much to the beat of her own drum. While the rest of the class is punching, kicking and jumping to the rhythm of the music, Camel-Toe-Shorts Lady is also punching, kicking and jumping, just at about 1/3 of the speed of everyone else. Now, I give her mad props for being there at all and I recognize the bitchyness of resenting her out of sequence self but doooood! She’s not a noobie and I’m actually pretty sure that she knows that she’s supposed to be going faster, she just really doesn’t care. Perhaps it’s the sweat combined with oxygen deprivation during class that so unexpectedly provokes my ire, but whereas I have a soft spot for Pink Lady, I'm just annoyed by Camel-Toe-Shorts lady.

I get that you can go whatever speed you want, but must you buck the trend in the very front when off to the side would do just fine, not to mention decrease the chances of someone accidentally kicking you in the head because you’re still squatting while the rest of us have moved on to kicking? She’s really no different from Pink Lady – just movin’ to her own little beat, but where as I felt warm and fuzzy to Pink Lady, I feel nothing but cold pricklies for Camel-Toe-Shorts Lady.

My new side business

I've started a side business.

It's a relatively innocuous and non-threatening side business. For me. Though I suppose my clients could experience some mildly serious ramifications should our little game be exposed. Said business could be likened to a lawyer defending a client but never actually having to go before the court. It's something like that. People do this for each other all the time and label it "help."

Does being paid for something make it worse? I know that this is true for sex. Consensual sex between adults is generally considered not to be a crime. (Unless you're Catholic and using birth control of course...but if you don't enjoy it, then it's fine.) Add in a little monetary compensation and.......BAM! Prostitution. Illegal. Bad. Not somewhere I ever care to go.

My problem however, is that this side business of mine, well, it pits two sides of me against each other. The teacher in me is horrified and can't believe that I would ever do such a thing. Sadly the under-paid researcher in me just plain doesn't care.

Am I doomed to the depths of the Pit of Despair? or am I merely deserving of a short period of respite in the Fire Swamp?

Oh moral compass...won't you leave me alone!?!

Frustrated on a Friday

“I wish to be as I am and not as the world would have me be. For that reason, I am a feminist.”

I know that through this blog I’ve gotten a bit of a reputation. I talk a lot about feminist issues, about inequity and about relationships. People may and probably do assume that I am a raging feminist, that I am overly serious, over-reactionary and possibly have too much time on my hands. All of the above may be true, but when all is said and done, I don’t think that I am wrong.

Someone commented last night that they didn’t understand my feminist rage (there had been discussion as to whether the term ‘slut’ is more derogatory towards women than men or not) when the men of our generation “fear” their girlfriends more than anything. Fear, is not respect. It is not equality and if anything, it’s most likely condescension. I feel bad though because I rather jumped down this person’s throat over this comment. It was a reaction that they did not deserve as we were simply having a conversation, not to mention the fact that they had done nothing but be very kind that day, and the previous week for that matter.

It was once argued to me that my feminist agenda and belief that sexism is still prevalent both professionally and in society at large, could not possibly be legitimate since a woman (Hillary Clinton) was a viable candidate for the Democratic Presidential nominee, and yet another woman (Sarah Palin) was the Republican Vice-Presidential nominee. While that is great and it was good to see women visible in the political arena – it doesn’t negate everything else. It doesn’t change the fact that, all qualifications and experience being equal, a man will be hired to a job position over me. It doesn’t change the fact that my male peers make more money than I do for the same work, and that earnings discrepancy will only increase over time. And every time a man has a strong reaction or gets angry at work, nobody will peg them as ‘emotional’ or wonder if ‘it’s that time of the month.’

I know that I may come off sounding angry and very single-minded on these issues, but today, I find myself more distressed and worried than anything else. Where do I go from here? How do we fight these stereotypes and still get to be who we are? I have emotions. They do not affect my ability to be excellent at what I do. Yet those two things, emotions and professionalism seem to be mutually exclusive to each other in the mind of society.

A friend of mine finds herself in a situation at work, where her work is being openly attacked by a male co-worker in a condescending and inappropriate way. This co-worker has disrespected her as a peer, calling her derogatory names behind her back and spreading unfounded rumors. He has currently taken it upon himself to be involved in the development of a project (her project) that has nothing to do with him. Any man in a similar scenario would have lost it by now, told the guy to back the f off and keep his hands of his research and then gone on his merry way. Such posturing does not work for women. She’ll be pegged as emotional, as paranoid and as irrational. She finds herself at an impasse. Having been the bigger person, ignored the rumors and not engaged in petty in-fighting only to have this behavior continue she still cannot fight back and defend herself. So what are we to do? Accept that despite excellent work quality and professionalism, we will still be targets of rumor, gossip and professional attack. Accept that self defense in this scenario will only result in the reputation of being emotional and ‘crazy.’ Refuse to engage? Then you’re cold and bitchy. It’s a lose lose.

I think that it is watching a friend go through this, and realizing that I don’t know what to do about it is what has gotten me so disturbed. This isn’t something in the past. This isn’t some abstract concept of inequality. Sexism has become increasingly less pervasive in past decades but that doesn’t mean that it is gone. If anything, the fact that people want to believe its gone can make it even harder to fight against. It frustrates me that I can never lose my temper at work. It frustrates me that my potential as an employee is less for the next two decades because of the latent possibility that I might want to start a family and that might interfere with my work. I hate that if/when I do have a family, I’ll face criticism from society whether I become a stay-at-home mom or a working mom.

So…I’ll keep going to work each day and I’ll do my best to prove that my gender is not a check in the minus column. I just wish that I didn’t so helpless against it sometimes.