Sexism At Last
I've never been one of those women who finds sexism around every corner, perhaps because my lack of interest in sexist men is entirely matched by their lack of interest in me.
Okay, a few of the more senior male doctors with whom I've worked have tried a bit of Superiority but I have retaliated by looking at them like their mothers used to when they were little, and this does tend to work.
But in general, I've never found it a problem at all.
Today, however, I encountered the Sexist Vet.
I AM NOT GOING TO TELL YOU WHAT WAS WRONG WITH THE SNAKE, SO PLEASE READ ON.
I know that some people who read this blog really, really don't want to hear about the snake's health problems, so I won't tell you. And there won't be any photos. But anyway, it's now recovering after its operation and I had taken it for a check-up.
Sexist Vet was deeply disappointed to see that it was Daphne rather than Stephen who had brought in the snake. Could I tell my husband this? and that? and could I ask my husband if the snake does this? or that? And could I ask my husband to bring it back on Monday?
He seemed surprised when I picked it up out of the tank. Clearly a snake is a Man Pet in his view.
"Your husband seems very clued-up about the care of snakes," he said admiringly.
Yes, he is, as a matter of fact. AND WHO CLUED HIM UP? - - Emily and I did!
Any suggestion I made, Sexist Vet just cut right in on. Anything I tried to tell him he dismissed.
It's true that Stephen does a brilliant job of feeding the snake, because he has more patience with its stupidity than I have. And it's true that he used his skills in electronics to design and build the Snake-o-stat, which gives the snake probably the best temperature control in the country.
But who was it who spent her entire childhood looking after animals, and wanted to be a vet, and couldn't even contemplate it because the school didn't offer biology as an exam subject? - - er, ME.
It'll be me taking the snake back to the vet's on Monday. I know Sexist Vet will be disappointed. Mind you, if he watches me trying to park in their tiny car park it might give him a good laugh.
Okay, a few of the more senior male doctors with whom I've worked have tried a bit of Superiority but I have retaliated by looking at them like their mothers used to when they were little, and this does tend to work.
But in general, I've never found it a problem at all.
Today, however, I encountered the Sexist Vet.
I AM NOT GOING TO TELL YOU WHAT WAS WRONG WITH THE SNAKE, SO PLEASE READ ON.
I know that some people who read this blog really, really don't want to hear about the snake's health problems, so I won't tell you. And there won't be any photos. But anyway, it's now recovering after its operation and I had taken it for a check-up.
Sexist Vet was deeply disappointed to see that it was Daphne rather than Stephen who had brought in the snake. Could I tell my husband this? and that? and could I ask my husband if the snake does this? or that? And could I ask my husband to bring it back on Monday?
He seemed surprised when I picked it up out of the tank. Clearly a snake is a Man Pet in his view.
"Your husband seems very clued-up about the care of snakes," he said admiringly.
Yes, he is, as a matter of fact. AND WHO CLUED HIM UP? - - Emily and I did!
Any suggestion I made, Sexist Vet just cut right in on. Anything I tried to tell him he dismissed.
It's true that Stephen does a brilliant job of feeding the snake, because he has more patience with its stupidity than I have. And it's true that he used his skills in electronics to design and build the Snake-o-stat, which gives the snake probably the best temperature control in the country.
But who was it who spent her entire childhood looking after animals, and wanted to be a vet, and couldn't even contemplate it because the school didn't offer biology as an exam subject? - - er, ME.
It'll be me taking the snake back to the vet's on Monday. I know Sexist Vet will be disappointed. Mind you, if he watches me trying to park in their tiny car park it might give him a good laugh.
posted by Daphne at 6:44 pm
2 Comments:
Yep, got the same thing when I was trying to buy a truck. A big truck. You know, a man's truck. They wanted to talk to the 'big man' next to me. My big man is a chef. He doesn't know a duramax diesel from a lawnmower engine. They'd ask him, he'd say (pointing at me) talk to her. They'd look at me and then ask him the question! Grrr indeed!
Maybe you could teach the snake to wrap itself around sexist vet's neck by Monday!
You know, Daphne, you will just have to be extremely rude to this man and remind him that we are now in the 21st century - or ask him which charm school he graduated from...OR do a bit of counsell-speak - "I'm interested to know why you think that my husband, who is not here to speak to anyway, knows so much more than I do about this snake." Sock it to him!
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