I used to be one of the lucky majority. I used to be one of those fortunate fools who believed that sexual harrassment was a thing that took place among a pretty isolated demographic. You know, like among pretty and strong-willed young women and their powerful bosses. It couldn't happen to ME, I used to say.
My world has been shattered.I now know that horrible, degrading, and deeply scarring comments can be made to 23-year old newcomers by, say, the 55-year-old grandmother figure.
Like when I was holding a bread basket looking for a cloth napkin to put inside to cradle the bread, and Kathy said with a cackle to the whole kitchen, "He looks like Little Red Riding Hood...and I'm the big bad Wolf!"
Or the time when Kathy had offered to show me how to properly prepare a Snickers Pie, a Dakota special desert, in front of an audience of 3 or 4 other servers. She said, "You kind of drizzle the chocolate and caramel all over the pie so you get the whole thing covered. Kind of how you're going to do to my body later tonight." Oh. God.