The Post-It Made Me Do It

I could list a slew of reasons why I enjoy working for myself but really what it all comes down to is a lack of sexual harassment.  You'll understand when I tell you about a few encounters I've had*.  I'll illustrate my experiences with photographs I discovered when searching for "Sexual Harassment" on iStockphoto. 

My boss said he was having problems figuring out something in a report he was reading.  I went over to his desk and attempted to read the file he was talking about.

"No, Monica, it's hard to read from there.  You can get a better view if you sit right here."

With that, he pointed at his lap.

Well, he knows best, I thought.

Titled, "Disgusted Assistant" and described as "Harassment in the workplace - she is uncomfortable with his unwanted contact." - whilst providing no explanation for how she ended up in his lap to begin with... Photo by: fotogaby 

I felt a bit uncomfortable, but I tried to forget about it.  Some time went by, and on a casual Friday there was a perfect storm of inadvertent messages. Firstly, the office shredder had gone haywire and ended up ripping my jeans.  Then, I had been feeling particularly forgetful and needed to remind myself to return a copy of a DVD I had rented lest I incur any further late-fees. I wrote the movie title down on a Post-it Note and put it somewhere I always remember to look - my collarbone.  When my boss passed by... well, it was awkward.

Titled: "Single Life" - Photo by Stockphoto4u

About a week later, my boss blindfolded me and led me into his office.  I thought nothing of it, as it was my birthday and I simply assumed we were going to play a game of Pin the Tail on the Donkey.  Well, he sat me down and whispered "take off the blindfold".  I was confused but still excited (birthday cake, perhaps, then?)  I did as I was told and then opened my eyes.  What greeted me was disturbing, to say the least.  

Titled, for complete clarity, "Business Woman Sitting Between Two Men Wearing Pig Masks"

- Photo by ellenmoran

This was the final straw, you'd think. But, it wasn't until the trough came out that I finally deemed it necessary to quit.

I'll never forget the angry squealing sounds that met me when I handed in my letter of resignation.  And, sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can still hear the snorting.

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*And by "had", I mean "never had".

More iStock weirdness at this post.