With the holidays upon us, this season of joy, light, and family - it was time for Sexual Harassment training.
Unlike my last job in the Almost Square State™, I now work in and amongst a network of county offices. This meant that my Sexual Harassment training would take place with police detectives, social workers, and forrest rangers. This was going to be interesting. And it was.
The first things that I learned from the dated video follow, in no particular order:
1) If you wear fashions of the 1980's, you will almost inevitably sexually harassed by short, leering men.
2) Most men who sexually harass women have moustaches.
3) Most women who sexually harass women are lesbians.
4) Sexual harassment only happens in poorly furnished offices, with bad lighting.
5) Out of town business men will always sexually harass secretaries who wear low cut blouses.
6) During a 3 hour Sexual Harassment training you get a 20 minute break, cookies and coffee included.
7) Construction workers, while they Sexually Harass lots of people, are apparently not harassed themselves. This job is particularly attractive to Sexual Harassers.
8) If you are alone with a co-worker in a cafeteria, ware house, room with no windows - but lots of fake potted plants, or parking garage you are likely to be sexually harassed.
9) You can not sexually harass inanimate objects, no matter how hard you try.
10) I need to pick up some coffee creamer, saltines, and sugar cubes.
Mind you, these are just a few of the notes I took during the session. Mind you, I might have improvised some of these notes based on what I wanted to hear.
I may have been slightly distracted by the uneven mini-blinds covering the huge windows. Or the odd number of Styrofoam coffee cups on the snack table, or the fact that the cookies were mixed, and not sorted by type.
Or that the paper napkins had pictures of flowers and happy birds on them, even though its not spring.
Overall, it was an enjoyable training. I will not sexually harass any of my coworkers. Not that I would have anyway - it's kinda tacky.
Moral of this blog: If you wouldn't say it to your Grandmother, you shouldn't say it at all.