One man's humble opinion (and FYI, I'm right)
03/08/2002
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Women shouldn't be allowed in the workplace.
Gosh darn it. That came out all wrong. Because I didn't mean it like that at all.
I wasn't trying to say that women shouldn't be allowed in the workplace.
I was just trying to say that women shouldn't be allowed in the workplace because they're a pain in the ass and they complain too much and they cry and they whine and they're too goddamned emotional and they should just stay home and take care of the kids and clean the house and cook dinner and clean some more and look good and be ready for sex at a moment's notice and did I mention clean?
That's what I meant.
Now that doesn't sound so bad, does it?
Actually, the truth of the matter is, while I do think that work would be better off without women, I sincerely do believe there are occasions when women should be allowed in the workplace.
Once a week maybe, to drop off a hot lunch for their hard-working fella. Or maybe to stop by wearing nothing but a trenchcoat and heels to take a little tension out of their guy's stress-filled day.
Y'know, stuff like that.
Other than that, though, I really don't think women should be allowed in the workplace.
I don't think good-looking women should be allowed in the workplace because they're too distracting. Have you ever been doing your job and a good-looking woman walks by and you forget what you were doing and spend a half an hour thinking about having sex with her on your boss's desk?
Right. Um, me neither.
I don't think dumb women should be allowed in the workplace, either. Unless they're good-looking and dumb.
MAN: I need to give you some dictation.
GOOD-LOOKING DUMB WOMAN: That's weird. This doesn't feel like dictation.
I don't think smart women should be allowed in the workplace because they're smart. Plus, they have vaginas. And as we all know, when placed in the wrong hands, a vagina can be a very powerful tool.
Smart women use their brains and their vaginas to hypnotize guys into getting their way at work because they're smart and they know that guys are easily hypnotized by vaginas.
To me, this is totally unfair. I can guarantee I've been thinking about vaginas longer than most of these women have even had theirs, and I still don't know how to use one as well as they do.
Finally, I don't think ugly women shouldn't be allowed in the workplace. Unless they're ugly and stupid.
MAN: I need to give you some dictation.
UGLY DUMB WOMAN: That's weird. This doesn't feel like dictation. And why did you make me turn out the lights?
Yes friends, when it comes to women in the workplace, I consider myself a man of the 90s.
The 1890s.
Here's the deal, though: I'm right.
I mean, I have problems every single day at work. I have people telling me I'm a moron. I have people hating things I've written for them. I have people trying to tell me how to do my job.
Mostly though, I have people telling me I'm a moron.
But y'know what? When someone yells at me, I don't sob uncontrollably. I don't complain about it for hours. I don't moan like a pathetic baboon.
Well, other than during sex, I don't moan like a pathetic baboon.
Do you know what I do when I get mad at work?
I get mad. Then I get over it and go back to work.
Here's something funny I've discovered about work: you're supposed to work while you're there.
As far as I know, nobody gets paid to sit around and moan and whine about their job, and about the people they have to work with, and how everybody's stupid except them.
Oops…wrong again! Actually, a lot of people get paid to sit around and moan and whine about their job, and about the people they have to work with, and how everybody's stupid except them. And they all have the exact same name:
Woman.
Friends, do you know what "woman" stands for?
Woman: Whiny Oversensitive Manipulative And Neurotic.
Woman: We're Ovulaters Making Absolute Nonsense.
Woman: We Overtly Misinterpret All Non-females.
When I have issues at work, I handle them the way you'd expect people at work to handle them. But half of the people at work don't handle them that way because half of them aren't men.
They're women.
Women: We're Only Menstruating Every Nanosecond.
For a long time, I've felt strongly about women having no place in the workplace.
But last week cemented my feelings.
In a Jimmy Hoffa cemented sort of way.
TUESDAY
There I was, sitting at my desk, typing. Minding my own business. Hard at work.
OK, maybe I was on teeniesex.com. But that's not really important.
What's important is that if anyone walked into my office, it looked like I was sitting at my desk, typing. Minding my own business. Hard at work.
"Can I talk to you for a minute?" she said.
Who's she, you ask? It doesn't really matter who she was. All you need to know is that she was a her. And her was who she was.
"Can I talk to you for a minute?" she said.
"Well actually, I'm kinda busy right now," I said.
Silence.
She left me no choice. I had to look up at her.
Oh, for chrissakes.
Red puffy eyes. Tears. Snot-filled kleenex.
"What's up?" I said, never taking my fingers off my keypad, praying to God that she'd take that the hint that if she planned on burdening my life with some horrific story of how someone was a big meanie-face to her, she'd better make it quick.
This is what she said:
"So and so is being really mean to me and she's a bitch and I don't know why she hates me so much and I hate her and I hate this job and this place sucks and I think she's just trying to hold me back and if I were a man I wouldn't be treated like this."
This is what I heard:
"Blah blah blah blah mean blah blah blah blah bitch blah blah blah blah blah blah hates blah. Blah blah blah blah job blah blah blah blah blah blah sucks blah blah blah blah blah blah blah trying blah blah blah blah man blah blah blah blah treated blah blah."
This is what I was thinking:
"Y'know sugar, if you're not happy with your career path, you've got a couple of options, here. One, I'll be happy to loan you a pen to gouge your eyeballs out with. Or I could do it for you. Either way. Or two, hey, here's an idea: quit your freakin' job, ya pain in the ass woman, ya. Nobody's got time for your useless babble and snot-nosed driveling 'oh woe is me' act. Do you think you're the only person in this place, or in an office in the Western Hemisphere, who's pissed about something? FYI, I'm pissed you're standing here right now. But I'm not crying. How'd you like it if I walked into your office and started bawling my eyes out? Do you think that just because you have breasts and a vagina that you have the right to act like a woman when all you complain about is that you're treated like one?"
That was what I was thinking.
This is what I said:
"Wow, that stinks for you." "Jeez, I can't believe that." And "Boy, that's just not nice of her."
I didn't really mean any of it, though. Partly because I didn't really care what she said. But mostly because I didn't really care what she said.
As she continued to stand there crying, I sat, not really knowing what to say other than my patented fake man sincerity.
Eventually, a man (shocker!) walked into my office with a question. A work-related question.
Frustrated over the world's inability to stop rotating because of her problems, she stomped out of my office.
Please understand, I'm not trying to trivialize her emotions. I realize that this issue was very important to her at this point in her life.
The thing was though, I didn't give a rat's ass about her, her issue, or her life.
And I mean that from the bottom of my heart.
WEDNESDAY
There I was, sitting at my desk, typing. Minding my own business. Hard at work.
In she walked.
A different she. But yet, the same she.
They're all the same she.
"Hi," she said.
"What's up?" I said.
I didn't get a response. What I did get was a woman who then laid herself down on my floor and started pounding the ground, yelling, "I can't take it anymore."
The weird thing is, I've often imagined women in my office lying on the floor screaming "I can't take it anymore." But it was different than this.
"You just can't take what anymore?" I said.
"I just can't take it anymore," she said. "Too much work. Too much stress. Too many projects. I just can't take it anymore.
As I watched her lying there, I thought: would a man do this?
Would any self-respecting man I know walk into someone's office and lay themselves down on the floor and started pounding the ground and complaining about their job?
Other than that gay guy in our accounting department, no.
As I looked at her, the odd part was, it didn't seem all that strange to me.
Because she was a her. And I've come to expect insanity from her.
Her being, the sum total of all shes.
Do you know why a woman can show up at work and cry or lie down on someone's floor or sit and bitch for hours and get away with it?
Because a woman is part of a larger group. A group called women.
Women: Weekly, Our Mission: Excessive Nagging.
Do I need this in my life? Does any hard-working man?
Frankly, I say it's time we rid the workplace of these pests. They serve no purpose other than being women.
When they're here, we men have to be careful about what we say, where we look and how we act.
Christ, if I wanted to be careful about what I said and where I looked and how I acted, I might as well stay home.
I don't mean anything by it, but I really don't think women should be allowed in the workplace.
Of course, that's not saying that I don't think women can't be productive members of society.
In fact, I think women can take their unique perspective on the world and utilize their skill sets in a far more productive manner.
Besides, you can make a lot of money giving lap dances these days.
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