I am a widow and almost forty, but I look younger and many people assume I’m still in my late twenties.

I have a very physical job, doing freight in a grocery store in a very small town; there are lots of patriarchal world views out this way. 

A few months back, an elderly man was shopping right as we opened, about an hour before my shift was over. He gave me this slightly offended look while I was sweating my life away, putting heavy things on the shelf. 

Then, he asked, “What does your husband think of you doing this job?” 

I said, “I don’t know; let me ask”. Then, I bent down and yelled at the floor, “Hey, [Husband], what do you think of me doing this job?” and cocked my head to one side as if listening. After a few seconds, I stood up straight, looked the customer in the eye, and said, “I don’t think he minds.” The horrified look I received was priceless.

I’ve seen him a few times since and he just gets so embarrassed with himself when I greet him. And I make a point to smile really big and be super chipper, because that only gets him more flustered. 

I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks, after all. Specifically manners.

(I overheard this story from my dad. He’s a manager at a construction site, and they are EXTREMELY sexist. There’s a lady engineer whom they all look down upon because she’s female. They always find small ways to ignore her and show their displeasure at having to “take orders from a girl.” They usually have to do inspections of the building at varying stages during construction, which entails a lot of climbing. At one point, there’s only a rickety plank, at least 30 stories above ground level. The building is still under construction, with scaffolding and only some supports and stuff — I don’t know the technical terms — and it’s pretty dangerous. Even the most macho, most sexist of the men have been known to be daunted. Now, I’m not sure if the lady engineer actually needed to be present at the inspection, but she made sure she turned up, anyway!)

Lady Engineer: “Okay, so, now we proceed to [other point].” 

Construction Guy: “We will have to cross the plank.” *points to it in a silent challenge*

(The lady engineer proceeds to climb up in one easy movement, and walks quickly and unflinchingly across, in HEELS. The men are gawking, stunned out of their wits, in a cold sweat.)

Construction Guy: *quietly* “S***. Now we’ll have to do it, too.”

(The men took turns crossing with much swearing. They struggled not to flinch, either, but they were clumsier and not so good at it. The best part is, my dad later found out that there’s actually a less dangerous way of crossing, but they put the plank there to scare her off. Any one of them could have backed down and taken the easy way, but after seeing the lady seize the bull by the horns, not one of them dared to even suggest it!)

(I’m at a locally-owned florist shop looking for flowers when I overhear one of the employees talking excitedly with a lesbian couple about their wedding. After the couple leaves, another shopper approaches the employee.)

Customer: *to the employee* “God, I didn’t think they’d ever leave! They don’t pay you enough to serve people like that!”

Employee: “Like who, sir?”

Customer: “Like them! Those women were gay!”

Employee: “Oh, I know. I’m a bridesmaid. Personally, I think they look absolutely adorable together.”

(The customer looks appalled and leaves the store in a hurry. The employee sees me watching and raises an eyebrow in my direction.)

Me: “Are you really a bridesmaid?”

Employee: *breezily* “Nope! Never seen those women before in my life!”

I am a woman. I had just finished my degree, and I got a job as a researcher, basically writing software to test concepts, being paid from a professor’s research budget. There were basically two types of staff in the department: the technical staff and the admin/support staff. The technical staff — teachers, researchers, and computer support — were mostly male, scruffily-dressed, varying from shorts and flip-flops to Oxford-Don-ish tweed suits with elbow patches. The female techies and teachers dressed similarly: jeans, hoodies, typical undergraduate kit. The support staff were four women who looked after student and enrolment issues, correspondence, assisting the department chair, etc. They all dressed well: hair, makeup, high heels, dresses – thoroughly well-presented.

One day, I decided to mix it up and dress how I would when I eventually got a job in industry — heels, skirt, a whisper of femininity. That day was a strange one. I will give two examples.

I went into the photocopy/print room where one of the male lecturers was making copies. Without looking up, he said, “Is the chairman in today?” “How would I know?” I replied. He looked up to face me for the first time and said, startled, “Oh, [My Name]! It’s you!”

Later that day, my boss was talking to the chairman in the corridor. I approached my boss to ask him a question, and the chairman — remember, I do not work for him or the department and he has four people who do — handed me a pile of papers and said, “Can you make me a copy of this, please?”

I just stared at him in shock and quickly mounting anger. My boss detected what was about to happen and snatched them and said, “I will do it.” It’s no more his job than mine, and he is the most senior person in the department under the chair, but there was no sexism in his doing it.

I learned my lesson: nice clothes are for the weekend, and jeans and T-shirts are the only way to be treated like a professional. That was the only time the chair treated me like I was part of his support team.

It’s still mostly true in IT: dressing down is a power move, e.g. Mark Zuckerberg. No tech billionaire ever dresses like they have infinite money.

(I’m busy typing up a document for one customer, while another one comes and sits at my desk. He is already being assisted by my coworker and just wanted to sit down. Both my coworker and I are female.)

Customer: “Wow, you have the easiest job in the world.”

Me: *chuckling* “Typing is easy, sure, but that’s not all I do. We have to know how to use all these machines, design logos and business cards, use a wide variety of software…”

Customer: “Well, it’s air-conditioned in here!”

Me: “Sure, but each of these copiers and the laminating machines have operating temperatures at or above 300°F. When they’re all working, we get pretty sweaty back here.”

Customer: *getting flustered* “Well, you’re the one who wanted to be a liberated woman and work for a living!”

(It’s pretty clear that this man has a poor view of women in the workplace. I decide not to let him get me worked up.)

Me: *cheerfully* “Yep! I certainly do want to work for a living. It’s nice having cash to pay the bills and I’m not afraid of a little hard work!”

Customer: *laughs scornfully, like he doesn’t believe what I’m saying*

Me: *continues typing the document I was working on*

Customer: “Well, what about your coworker, eh? She’s a cutie! Right? A little cutie!”

Me: “I’m afraid I’m probably not the best judge of that, sir.”

(The customer seemed offended that I wouldn’t join him in leering at my coworker, grunted, and left my desk. Thank goodness!)