workplace harassment

I remained silent, after I was sexually harassed at work. I was terrified if I spoke up I would lose my job for making a mountain out of a molehill.

Please don't hug me at work. Not from the front, side, and certainly not behind.

After learning I had been assaulted, it took the men who ran my company mere moments to decide that I was the problem. Women aren’t safe at work.

I guess that’s why the slogan is “HE went to Jared” instead of “SHE went to Jared”. Only HE could afford to shop there after working there.

In my sickest moments, supposedly in the safe hands of health care professionals, I have had a chiro compare helping me undress to ‘unwrapping a gift’; a physio make sexual innuendos about the stockings I had to slip out of for treatment. Again, despite the shame, I remained polite, paying the receptionist for a transaction that left me sick to the core.

Firmly middle-aged due to my 47 years, I’m fat and everything about me pretty much screams “Mom.” This means I no longer get sexually harassed. The closest I’ve gotten to being hit on in the last 10 or so years was that time a homeless man tried to touch my hair after I left the salon.

When it comes to the male gaze, I am now officially invisible.

We thought we'd start celebrating 2014 with a quick and dirty round-up of this year's worst tales of work-place harassment. Happy New Year?