So I recently started a new job as a donation attendant at a well known thrift store, which I shall leave nameless for the sake of privacy.
Doing this job in the south is very unheard of, considering I’m a woman. My manager told me this when he hired me, stating women rarely apply for this job. When I started the job, I couldn’t understand why either. Yes, it’s very physical, but there are a lot of women as short order cooks as well, and a lot of women who are waitresses, which I think is far more physical than any other job. But this job, it’s a lot of lifting. My job description even states that I will be lifting over 75 pounds at a time.
I’m totally okay with this.
My legs are going to look amazing.
However, I’m thinking that I must be an Amazonian.
Last week, I had a woman pull up to the donation door and open the back of her van. She worked in the office part of our building and stated she wasn’t donating, but she needed some help. Being as I wasn’t doing anything at that particular moment, I decided to step in and assist.
“Oh ma’am, you are going to need to get a man out here to lift theses boxes. They’re way too heavy for a lady.”
I felt my blood pressure go up just a tad. She continues. “Also you’re going to need a flat bed.”
Strike one: She didn’t even ask me to get her boxes out of her car.
Strike two: She told me I had to have a man do it.
There are a few things that I am very certain of about myself.
I am stubborn. I am not a lady. I am independent to a fault. I am caring. I am Minnesota Nice.
And most importantly, I do not need a man to lift something for me.
So I go over to the box, ready to throw my back out to lift this box for this woman…
And the box was maybe ten pounds.
I tried not to roll my eyes, and this woman was just dumbfounded. She told me that they were far too heavy for her to lift. She then told me to bring them to her cubicle so I followed her there with the flatbed with the six boxes that were maybe ten pounds.
This is what really pissed me off.
She just watched me take all of these boxes off of this flatbed. And not just her, every single person in the office watched me lift these boxes.
Since then, I have had four separate women tell me that I needed a man to lift something for me. I always stay polite, but I usually respond with something along the lines of “I’m a corn-fed Midwesterner, I don’t need a man for anything.”
Which has caused everyone I work with to call me the “Minnesota Wonder Woman.” Or to have customers ask me if I’m a “Yankee.” Which apparently is the same as being called a Wonder Woman.
And Wonder Woman was an Amazonian warrior.
That’s right bitches. I’m an Amazonian woman. Because I can lift over ten pounds.