Sexual Harassment 3 - Because We Can

This took place about 9 years ago, but I don't think things have changed much.

We were at the federally-mandated Sexual Harassment seminar: the company had grown larger than 100 employees and so, we were told, this is mandatory. (Of course, "we were told" hides its own disavowal of responsibility and knowledge. The memo was unsigned and department-less. But we followed orders and attended.)

Oddly, I can't remember whether the instructor was a man or a woman - or one of each. It was an outsider, though: someone from outside the company and vaguely emitting an aura of officiality. I suppose we all thought it was a government official talking to us, since s/he was very "authoritative" in his (or her) "You cannot" and "It's not allowed" pronunciamentos. There was another seminar held just before ours, for the floor personnel, but they were all men and Latinos and used to nodding "yes" whether or not they understood a word of English. I'm sure the instructor felt that the first seminar was a success.

I'm tired of saying "s/he," so for now we'll remember the instructor as a woman.

And she was a talkative woman. She explained about improper advances, lewd comments and, most nefarious of all, "elevator eyes."

"No man can look up and down as if you were some object for his sexual attention," she said.

At which point Hannah - all 45 mini-skirted, blond bobbed body-to-die-for years of her Hannah - stood up and said: "But what if I want them to look at me."

"That's not allowed in the workplace."

"You mean I have paid for this dress, this hair, these fingernails - and they can't look at me?"

"Not in the workplace: that would be sexual harassment."

"This is stupid."

And with that comment, Hannah led the post-feminist revolution.

Angela stood up, doe-eyed, honey-haired, ruby-lipped, and declared: "I want them to appreciate me: if they can't do that, how do I find a husband here?"

Meylisa, she of the raven complexion and onyx eyes, chimed in: "I look good, why should I care? I'll tell you what I'd care about: if they ignore me, I'll care!"

The company administration and technical personnel, I should note, were 75% Mediterranean and European immigrant employees, all highly educated, mid-career, very smart - and not terribly attuned to the American way of morals. They were a terrible influence on the rest of us, as witnessed when the instructor, flummoxed by a ten minute onslaught of female-led resistance, turned to Fred, our resident Christian Of Good Standing:

"Fred, you said you go to church regularly: how do you think you should respond to Hannah if she comes in dressed up like she says she likes to?"

Fred sat in his chair, embarrassed by the question. Then he looked over at Hannah, standing in the doorway, eyes blazing defiantly at the instructor, breasts turned upwards even more defiantly against the claims of gravity and age, her long shapely legs sheathed in jeans tight enough to replace skin. Fred looked at her long and hard, his face turning the color of beets gone wild. Then he gave a long sigh and turned back to the instructor:

"I'll look at her exactly how she wants."