He was a gnat in a short-sleeved dress shirt. He questioned my analytical methods and argued my findings. He tattled to management with my mistakes and afterwards, scolded me like an disapproving father.
The company hired troops of newly minted graduates every year, knowing that most would get flushed out of the system by the hours and the workload or would get recruited by other companies in bigger, more interesting cities. He didn’t treat any of the other newbies the way he treated me.
My boss told me to ignore it.
I did my best, but dang, he made my quills twitch.
One day he demanded information that hadn’t been approved for release, and I refused. That’s when he crossed the final line.
“I’ve been in this business since before you were born, little girl.” He gave the last two words extra emphasis, as if the rest was just filler.
Little girl? Is that what this had been about all of this time?
I’d like to say I responded in a professional manner, but I went full porcupine.
“And I’ll be in it after you’re dead, so tell me, who wins?”
Neither of us told our management about our exchange.
In an alternate universe, I might have learned a lot from him. But every time he opened his mouth, all I heard was little girl.
When I left the company he said that “he’d miss sparring with me.” I told him I would not miss sparring with him one bit.
I know he didn’t behave that way because he was a man. He behaved that way because he was a misogynist. Mr. X only saw me through the filter of gender. My greatest teacher and mentor was a man. He wasn’t always easy on me either, but when he looked at me he only saw my potential. And he never called me little girl.
So when Donald Trump talks, all I hear is blah blah blah, ugly, pig, loser, disgusting, slob, dog, He has no problem telling a woman she’d be a pretty picture on her knees or referring to her as a piece of ass. He attacked the credibility of a newscaster because she asked him to account for his own words, and then retweeted comments calling her a bimbo and even worse, unbecoming.
Afterwards he said “it’s fun; it’s kidding,” then denied it altogether. (USA Today’s Fact Check says otherwise.)
He clearly respects his daughter, Ivanka. She’s heavily involved in running his company. How would he react if someone intimated she could dust off the old kneepads? Would he find it “fun”?
She insists that he “cherishes and adores women.”
He might want to start with a little respect first.