Don't shake your d**k at me. It's 2017.

I rush from uni to work in a sweat and arrive to another inappropriately kissy, physical greeting from my manager. Throughout the night he's throwing me lusty compliments that make me uncomfortable, as always. Later the chef grabs his dick and tells me he's 'ready for me', I tell my manager and he laughs. We need feminism.

From the start my 'creep-dar', tuned by years of working behind the bar, told me to AVOID this chef. 'I'll make sure i'm never left alone in the kitchen after the restaurant is closed' I thought, a precaution. I ignored his leers and advances, resigned to the fact I would have to deal with being uncomfortable for the sake of the job, as so many women do. We need feminism.

This particular night he repeatedly rang the bell for waitress service to the kitchen when there was no food to be served... 'Is the food ready?' I ask. 'No...I'm ready for you darling' he snarls and grabs his dick through his trousers with a sexual action and an intense glare, the other chefs laugh. I'm disgusted but not surprised. Later when I tell my manager he laughs and does absolutely nothing. I need feminism. 

This is not the first time that i've been harassed at work and i'm sure it won't be the last. I'll always remember the man who, drunk and shameless, repeatedly shouted across the bar to my embarrassment; 'Do you want some, I'll give you some' until I left to escape him. And the chef who tried to undo my bra.

I need feminism and i'm a privileged white woman living in one of the most socially 'developed' cities on earth. 

 I quit the job. 

Our problem is not solved.





 



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