According to RAINN, one in six women has been a victim of sexual assault. The numbers on men are a little harder to pin down, but even the estimate for women is probably low. They are your friends and family, your coworkers and associates. And so are their attackers.
Towards the end of my time working in a call center for AT&T in 2009, there was a day when I was riding a transfer to another office, my phone muted while whoever the customer was supposed to be talking to in the first place actually fixed their problem. I had my headset disconnected, the cord hidden in my hand so that I wasn’t breaching their privacy and was reminiscing about the days when I was a teenager working in a truck stop. I thought back to that time I thought someone had dropped a candy bar on the floor of the bathroom only to discover it was actually a half a Baby Ruth sized turd, laying about two feet in front of the toilet. When I told people the story, I called it “The Reverse Caddyshack.”
This is like that, but in reverse.
A Double Reverse Caddyshack, if you will.
The fact that I had this moment while being taught how to treat one of our elderly resident’s hemorrhoids might be a sign that I’ve made a good career decision.
This is not an endorsement of this terrible series that paints all foreigners as mysterious, otherworldly beings. I think I was on my third episode of a show that talked about people of various other ethnic groups without ever bothering to talk to any of them when I had to abandon ship.