One of the first rules of blogging is:
Don’t talk about bad things that happen at work.
Some people take this advice to heart while other bloggers write whatever they want to say regardless of the lawsuits that get slapped against them.
I think their main mistake is they identify the company and people by name.
Hello people! Why do you name names?
Didn’t you learn anything from Watergate and Clintongate?
I once worked at a bra manufacturer that was owned by a man.
How’s that for being vague?
Bra sales are good because women wear them to keep healthy circulation in the tissue of the boobs, sisters, gals, jugs, mama jamas or whatever you choose to call the breasts. Not only do women wear bras for the health reasons, but also to entice and turn men on sexually.
I promise I won’t talk about sex in this post.
Anyway, bra sales were great for this company. I worked in the accounting office and still reaped the benefits of reduced prices on products. Since I was a newly wed, the apparel was quite appreciated. That’s a subject I’m sure my ex-husband would rather I not explore too in-depth. Let’s just say it wasn’t boring.
One day the boss man said that everyone was going to get a free bra and would have a custom fitting to ensure we were getting the right size for our breasts. Whippee! A free bra is a great surprise, however, my thrill was short lived.
The next day, one lady at a time took turns going into the appointed room for the fitting. The first woman in my department named Sally (names were changed to protect the innocent) finally came back after her fitting and said, “The boss is in the room the whole time.“
The cute brunette named Paula, who was ten years her senior said, “Are you fitted over your clothes?”
With her eyes wide, Sally said with embarrassment, “No! I had to take off my shirt and bra while he sat there and watched the whole time!”
“You’re kidding!” Paula exclaimed completely flustered.
“He told me to tell you it was your turn,” Sally said to Paula with almost a hurt look on her face.
Paula had the biggest boobs I had ever seen and was my boob hero.
We all watched as Paula left the room.
The two men in the department glanced at Sally and quickly went back to work focusing on their paperwork. This was the era before computers, so it was a whole different work environment with all calculations being posted in fat books.
Looking down at the green ledger pages filled with neatly written numbers, I knew that I was next to have the bra fitting. Being newly married, money was really tight and I couldn’t afford to lose my job.
The more I thought about the whole scenario, the angrier I got until I was filled with rage! No one except my doctor and husband had seen me naked and if I wanted to flaunt my boobs, then I definitely wasn’t going to do it for my boss or for just a bra. So I decided that no matter what the consequence, the boss man was not going to see my boobs.
When Paula opened the door, both men turned around to stare at her like there was going to be a scarlet letter “B” for “boobs” emblazoned on her shirt. She looked at me briefly and said, “You’re next,” and then went over to Sally’s desk and started whispering.
I looked at the two men and they stared at me with the look that said, “No way is she going to do this in front of the boss.” I was wearing an outfit that was basically how I always dressed…gray slacks, gray suit coat, black shoes and a burgundy, white and gray turtleneck.
If you have ever had the pleasure of watching the movie, “Somethings Gotta Give” with Jack Nicholson and Diane Keaton, you will remember that Diane’s character always wore turtlenecks. Well, that woman was just an older me or maybe I was a younger her. I was ALWAYS covered. I NEVER showed any cleavage. The world couldn’t even tell that I had boobs because my shirts were baggy and hid them!
While walking to the bosses’ office I rehearsed what I would say to them if they asked me bare the boobs.
The lady, who was measuring and fitting the women for bras said, “Come in and close the door.”
Okay. So far, so good.
The boss man gave me the up and down look which didn’t bother me at all because he couldn’t see a thing and I knew it!
The woman started telling me about the importance of having the proper sized bra and how the breast tissue should be COMPLETELY in the cup on the sides. Breast tissue that hangs outside the cup on the side doesn’t get the proper circulation and research has shown that it can cause health problems.
I already knew all of this information. I had been working there long enough to hear everything I ever wanted to know about bras and breasts.
The ENTIRE time that I stood listening to her speech, the boss man watched me. I couldn’t help but think about how perverted this man was to do this to all his female employees.
The bra fitter’s informational speech seemed to last too long because I just wanted this experience to be over one way or the other. I was by far the youngest employee at this company and probably had
the smallest boobs, but I was not going to be bullied by big boobs or a boss man who had boobs smaller than mine!
Finally, the bra fitter lady said, “So to get a proper fit, I must measure your breast without a bra on because it will give an inaccurate measurement, so please remove your shirt and bra.”
My palms were sweaty and I was very nervous even though I was angry. At this point of my life, I was still quite shy and never very bold in my speaking.
I looked straight at my boss man and said, “I will not remove my shirt or my bra.”
For one second there was shock on his face which brought me pure satisfaction, but he kept staring back at me.
The fitter lady looked at him for guidance, but his eyes never left mine as he said, “This is a requirement of the company.”
“I work in the accounting office and do not directly come in contact with any of the customers. If you want me to have a bra, then you must leave the room because I’m not going to stand here with my bare boobs in front of you,” I said without even taking a breath.
He actually looked angry when he spoke next saying, “Just measure her on top of all her clothes,” making it very apparent that he thought I was wearing enough layers to survive in the North Pole.
Inside I was feeling extremely proud of myself, but I didn’t even let the slightest smile cross my lips nor did my eyes leave his angry stare the entire time I was being fitted. The lady doing the measurements was extremely uncomfortable, but I was mad at her too for going along with such a shenanigan. It was female boob exploitation in the workplace!
With the measuring complete, the fitter lady reached into the box and pulled out a new lacy white bra and handed it to me without looking up from her clipboard of employee names.
“Thank you,” I said and breaking the stare from the boss man, turned around with satisfaction that not only didn’t he see my boobs, but he couldn’t see my butt wiggle as I left because my coat was long enough to cover it!
I wonder if he still remembers me?