An Epic Dragging — Emphasis On “Drag”

I am a woman. This is relevant, honest. 

I once got a promotion that a male coworker thought he should have gotten. I mean, he was the only one who thought he should have gotten it, as he lacked the necessary five years of experience in the field and was actually less than six months out of Uni, but he was so sure it should have been him.

So, he put it about that I’d only gotten the promotion because I’d slept with the manager deciding who should get it.

Big mistake.

Said manager heard the rumours and turned up to the office in full panoply, bringing Human Resources with him. And humiliated the guy.

You see, the manager was the gayest gay to ever gay. The over-the-top camp gay stereotype could have been invented by him. He was out, and proud, and loud, honey, at a time when you still really didn’t want to be. He was also, coincidentally, a hobbyist drag queen.

Imagine, if you will, a 6’4” drag queen in full makeup with around half a tonne of glitter on her mascara, a huge, lilac bouffant wig, and pouty-pouty lips, in a pink and purple fishtail dress, white and purple feather boas, gold fishnet stockings, and five-inch heels. I wish I could walk — “sashay” would be more accurate — in five-inch heels the way she could. She was gorgeous, darling. 

Now, in general, I don’t agree with embarrassing or humiliating members of staff in front of others — or at all. But at the same time, it was a glorious take-down. She ripped into the idiot, ridiculing the whole idea — I mean, I really wasn’t her type — and also pointing out quite how offensive it was to her that the idiot would suggest that she would behave like that — all in full and sassy Drag Queen mode. 

I did get an apology — enforced by HR — but the idiot, despite being on probation, went on to do more idiot stuff, and he was fired about nine months later after making some truly offensive comments to some colleagues whose families originated on the Indian subcontinent.