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fredericksI mentioned to one of my co-workers today my observation/annoyance at gender stereotypes in our society and how I get to see it played out while working at the 'Shack. There was one time when a young girl (maybe 4 or 5) came into the store with her family and expressed interest in some of the RCs we have on display, particularly a blue motorcycle one. When she told her folks, though, they quickly said "No, no, those are for boys", and then pointed her towards the totally pansy-looking red Barbie Beetle with the flower stuck in the dash. I mean, the hell? All I could think was "It starts". There was one time that I witnessed a boy being allowed to pick a toy that was marketed to females. It's stuck with me because the boys father actually purchased it (the toy was from the Bratz line, one of the most stupid line of toys I've ever some across - it was a guy and girl doll on a motorcycle). I thought it a damned smart move on the dad's part.
If it's not young girls (and boys, lets not leave them out of the equation) being denied something or another because of gender stereotypes, its assumptions based on gender. Most customers assume that I know nothing of technical depth about anything, male AND female, and will most likely search out a male worker if they have a related question. If anything males are more likely to give me the benefit of the doubt, perhaps because it's the inherent heterosexual weakness for breasts...who really knows? When I demonstrate that, yes, I can tell them how to hook up their 4 pieces of A/V equipment to your ancient television and also tell them what gauge of coaxial cable will work best for their set-up, it's like the second coming of Christ. These people are just bowled over. I find it, in turns, amusing and frustrating as all hell. Then I remember I'm stuck in a second-rate job that I'm horribly over-qualified for and I go to the stockroom and cry. Not really, but whatever.
Aside from the surprisingly stimulating conversation I managed to get into near the beginning of the shift, the rest of the day was "eh". I was practically stalked by this customer who had me demonstrate items that he obviously wasn't going to purchase, I royally fucked up a cellphone sale, and I shared my shift with the smallest largest prick this side of Queens. When I finally got to the gym (after being delayed 45 minutes by the cellphone sale that never happened), instead of being able to blank my mind during the workout I kept playing back all the ways I'd messed up during the day and cursing, mostly in my head but occasionally under my breath, most likely freaking out the people around me I'm sure. But I was blasting Celia Cruz and The Lawyer, so I could have given a rat's ass. Or I tried not to give a rat's ass. Obviously I did give a rat's ass, or I wouldn't have mentioned it. And what's with me and the rear-ends of large rodents, anyway?
My Radiohead CDs are still AWOL (sob), but I popped by the library yesterday and picked up "Amnesiac", so I at least have a temporary fix. I really should get around to setting up my computer so I can burn a new copy of "Hail to the Thief". "Amnesiac" is okay, but not as melodic as "OK Computer" or even "HttT". I do so love Knives Out, though. Good times.
I have tomorrow off, so I suppose I should run around and take care of loose ends. Or lie in and finally sleep past 8AM. Maybe I can do both! Yay me!
If it's not young girls (and boys, lets not leave them out of the equation) being denied something or another because of gender stereotypes, its assumptions based on gender. Most customers assume that I know nothing of technical depth about anything, male AND female, and will most likely search out a male worker if they have a related question. If anything males are more likely to give me the benefit of the doubt, perhaps because it's the inherent heterosexual weakness for breasts...who really knows? When I demonstrate that, yes, I can tell them how to hook up their 4 pieces of A/V equipment to your ancient television and also tell them what gauge of coaxial cable will work best for their set-up, it's like the second coming of Christ. These people are just bowled over. I find it, in turns, amusing and frustrating as all hell. Then I remember I'm stuck in a second-rate job that I'm horribly over-qualified for and I go to the stockroom and cry. Not really, but whatever.
Aside from the surprisingly stimulating conversation I managed to get into near the beginning of the shift, the rest of the day was "eh". I was practically stalked by this customer who had me demonstrate items that he obviously wasn't going to purchase, I royally fucked up a cellphone sale, and I shared my shift with the smallest largest prick this side of Queens. When I finally got to the gym (after being delayed 45 minutes by the cellphone sale that never happened), instead of being able to blank my mind during the workout I kept playing back all the ways I'd messed up during the day and cursing, mostly in my head but occasionally under my breath, most likely freaking out the people around me I'm sure. But I was blasting Celia Cruz and The Lawyer, so I could have given a rat's ass. Or I tried not to give a rat's ass. Obviously I did give a rat's ass, or I wouldn't have mentioned it. And what's with me and the rear-ends of large rodents, anyway?
My Radiohead CDs are still AWOL (sob), but I popped by the library yesterday and picked up "Amnesiac", so I at least have a temporary fix. I really should get around to setting up my computer so I can burn a new copy of "Hail to the Thief". "Amnesiac" is okay, but not as melodic as "OK Computer" or even "HttT". I do so love Knives Out, though. Good times.
I have tomorrow off, so I suppose I should run around and take care of loose ends. Or lie in and finally sleep past 8AM. Maybe I can do both! Yay me!
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Why do you care how well or poorly you do at work?
Date: 2003-12-10 01:46 am (UTC)Get with it, girl! It's not your profession, it's your beer money. You aren't building a future... you're stalling. Nothing wrong with that -- I spent a decade in stall mode.
So when you finish your shift, leave it in the backroom and let your coworkers with no future sweat their mistakes.
Of the two, your workout is far more important than your job.
Sorry for being a touch cruel, but it's true.
no subject
Date: 2003-12-10 06:25 am (UTC)"You're worth more than the whole damn bunch put together."