Ever caught yourself wondering whether the only reason you’re vouching for female equality is because you’re afraid you might be looked down by other feminists if you don’t? I admit, I have. The first time that thought stuck me I was in my sociology class, which constituted of a feminist, a non feminist (rather Marxist) and a very confused me. Being the passionate and over enthusiastic teenager I was, I firmly believed that t I am a female hence I should support the idea of equal treatment of women and men. However, I did fought the urge to not dress up as Wonder Woman and beat up anyone who didn’t thought so.
That was me, after sociology class. Two years later, I am not the same. The question I keep asking myself is whether I really wanted to be treated equally by men.
I used to get pissed off at my boss whose only advice to me from the day I joined was:
“Use your girlish charms to please the guest!”
I had a problem with two words in that sentence. Actually, I didn’t like the sentence at all. It made me feel like the giant vase full of flowers in the main lobby. Attractive but still an object. So no thank you, I’d rather keep by dignity and be charmless, at the risk of offending them.
Over the period of time I realized that the advice wasn’t meant to be offensive. Rather he was just explaining the mentality of the people.
My manager was dealing with a guest one day who was furious because his airport pick up had been delayed by an hour. Because the guest himself had spent an hour to locate his luggage and didn’t bother to inform the protocol of the problem. This guy was furious. Like huffing-puffing furious. His anger was visible through the reddening of his cheeks and nose He was sweating like a fucking pig. Tiny drops of perspiration covered the top of his lip.
I cringed when he was brought over to me; I hate dealing with angry customers. Specially when my manager forces me to. I gave the guest my best-est smile and followed the registration process. As soon as he saw me, he actually straightened up a bit. The anger just ceased. By the time I was done, the breathing had resumed to normal and the redness had disappeared. He looked very normal and considerably happy. When I apologised for the inconvenience, he smiled at me and patted me on the back saying “Oh it’s not your fault ma’am!“.
Wow, really? All that because I have tits?
My manager came to me and said the very same thing: “The only reason he didn’t scream at you is because you’re a girl!”
And it isn’t just the guests; the male shopkeepers are always nice. Specially when you’re wearing a top that shows your cleavage. I’m not asking anyone to wear low neck tops to get things done. But isn’t it nicer to not have to wait in a line? Even if it’s just because you’re a girl?
I called my university to ask what my dues are since I dropped out of the summer semester. You remember Bitchface? Remember how it went the last time I went there? These fucktards don’t know there job and walk around like the boss of the place. If only I could beat them to death with my phone…
She wasn’t as rude as she had been. But the news she delivered did make her sound like the angel of death.
“You have to pay 44,000rs”
*falls out of chair, loses consciousness, gains consciousness and manages to say*
“Yes, ma’am. Because you didn’t pay for the summer semester”
“Yes. That’s because I never attended one class”
“Doesn’t matter. You gotta pay.”
“Yes, because you registered. SO you gotta pay”
The “gotta”s were driving me nuts.
“And why didn’t you guys inform me that I still had forty four fucking thousand to pay? Not even one call in two months?”
“Musta have forgotten”
Oh, you forgot! You FORGOT! That’s perfectly fine! No, really. It makes it all the more easier to pay fourty four thousand rupees because you FORGOT to inform me!
So I decided to leave early today and pay them a visit. After it took me nearly an hour to get to the university which is fifteen minutes from the hotel, I was exhausted. I went up to Bitchface and based on our last meeting, I was sure she wasn’t going to be much helpful.
“You will have to wait. My system is down.”
Oh, Lord, save me!
My cry for help was probably a little loud. Some guy named Danish from the accounts offered to help. Even though his own system was not working, he made an effort of finding one that was. Something BitchFace never would have done in a million years. Finally, we were able to view my dues and I prepared myself for an even worse news.
“You have to pay 16,000 Rs”
*falls out of chair, loses consciousness, gains consciousness, manages to say*
“Yeah, you see you didn’t pay for the previous...”
“Yeah I know. Are you sure?”
“Can you check again?”
Eager to help, after a few clicks, he smiled at me: “Yep!”
So if it hadn’t been for this guy, I would have made a pay order for an amount that I would eventually have to ask to be reversed. The thought of the numerous trips I would have made to my bank makes my soul shudder. Oh the pain he had saved me from! In gratitude, I could have hugged him. But I decided not to.
When I turned around, he called him from behind, “Nice jeans!”.
I was too grateful to write a complaint against him.
In an ideal world, I would assume that women will side with women on basis of gender. In the real world, it’s quite the opposite. A woman refuses to bear another woman, specially a better woman. Same is the case with men. But opposite sexes treat each other amiably probably because they are momentarily infatuated and their mind is releasing abnormal amounts of dopa-mine for a while at least.
But is this really what we want? Do women really want to be treated equally? To not be given special treatment? Are we prepared to have people not open doors for us? Are we prepared to be treated roughly as if we were men? Are we?
P.S This was meant to be a funny post. Sorry I got serious at the end.
New at Orange Shoes Talking: My fiction fantasies in Beyond Hotel Sheets:- These nuts are small!