Mister Misogyny walks into the store and says “I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. I will never work for a woman again. They’re all one big ball of estrogen and hormones. Work is like…it’s like a team. A football team. And women can’t play football.”
I debate tackling him to debunk his theory that all men can play football.
"A client asked me to do a" and here I sort of faze out of the conversation "but then changed their mind. She didn’t even tell me until like six months later. It’s like, I see you step in dogshit and then I don’t say anything until you’re in my car? That’s not right. Women, right? Have you ever worked for a woman?"
I spock eye him.
"They’re awful. All of them. I’m going to go in there right now and quit."
"Well good luck on your impending career change."
"I don’t know if I’m really going to do it." He makes direct eye contact with me. "Fuck it, I’m doing it."
"Ok." I say.
"Yea. Whoooo. Thanks for psyching me up."