The Estrogen Office, or, Employer Beware

The Wench is back, after a lengthy hiatus. Fear not: Daily drudgery may have prevented The Wench from blogging, but she remains as embittered towards her sex as ever.

This post is prompted by a recent catfight that The Wench's husband was forced to quell in his office. You see, being self-employed, The Wench's husband found it necessary to hire several qualified individuals to help him -- all of whom, incidentally, are female.

The Wench's husband assumed that his employees would simply show up each morning, do the job required of them, and go home. This is how The Wench's husband works, and he considers it a reasonable approach.

Foolish, foolish husband.

His Vulcanite rationality rendered him clueless to the perils posed by an abundance of estrogen in the workplace. He was unaware that female employees generally demand more hand-holding and encouragement than their male counterparts. He was completely oblivious that comments he routinely makes to male employees are considered by female employees to be curt, hurtful and rude.

Most tragically, he was under the delusion that female employees approach any issues with one another directly and pragmatically. He had no inkling of the back-biting and passive-agressiveness that females use to establish dominance over one another . . . of all the slighted feelings that eventually fester to an ugly head and explode.

The Wench's husband was finally made aware of his ignorance when confronted by two sobbing female employees . . . and The Wench can affirm from personal experience that her husband is quite uncomfortable with tears.

The Wench's advice to the self-employed: Avoid the estrogen-heavy office, if possible. Consider the cumulative effect of female hormones raging in tandem. Counteract the indirection, the hushed snarking and sniping, with a dose of testosterone. Hire a male.

On Freakily Insane Women, AKA Sexual Harassment Suit Plaintiffs

The Wench recently overheard a male commenting that most females who file sexual harassment lawsuits are "bats*** crazy." Why is that, this male pondered.

The Wench agrees that many --although certainly not all -- women plaintiffs in sexual harassment cases are, indeed, bats*** crazy. Or, at the very least, more inclined to be mentally and emotionally . . . ahem! . . . fragile.

As for why this is so, sir -- why it's as plain as the male member in your shorts! It's simply the nature of the beast. And by "beast", I am not referring to the male member in your shorts. I am referring to the nature of sexual harassment itself.

Let's say you are a male sexual predator, out to grope, fondle, leer over, or otherwise harass a female employee. Do you prey upon the gal who responds to your innuendos by flipping you the bird? The no-nonsense gal who clearly and assertively informs you that she will not put up with your behavior, and that if you so much as touch her, she will gladly take a cheese grater to your scrotum?

No, silly. You prey upon the batsh** crazy gal! The one who's used all of her personal days suffering a nervous breakdown over her recent breakup. The one who spends a lot of time crying in the bathroom stall. The devotee of Marianne Williamson and The Secret, who's trying to work on her "positive energy."

Choose your victim wisely, and the harassment will go just ducky. Although it just might come back to bite you in the ass:
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