This past summer, I got my first job. As someone who waited a bit longer than normal to have a job (the summer after senior year of high school), and as someone who waited far longer than normal to get a drivers license (also the summer after senior year of high school), it is safe to say my options were perhaps limited by my lack of work experience, as well as a lack of experience behind the wheel.
Not only did I have to pursue opportunities that were within walking distance of my house, due to my still present fear of driving a car, but my lack of prior job experience meant that I needed to find a business that required no prior training or experience.
This is exactly how I found myself working as a cashier at the locally owned hardware store a few blocks from my house. I was lucky, in the sense that I found somewhere to work that basically only entailed smiling at people, scanning items, and dealing with an occasionally frustrating and outdated point-of-sale system.
Most customers were friendly and familiar faces from around my neighborhood, whom I looked forward to chatting with every day. However, once in a while, as everyone working at any kind of business surely knows, you may come face-to-face with a “Karen,” a surly old man, a strange and uncomfortably flirtatious younger man, or a feral child.
In my case, I got most trouble from younger and older men alike, who seemed to be amused by a young woman working at a hardware store. Most comments I received were fairly easy to laugh off (in the name of keeping myself in good spirits), such as, “How how did you get behind the counter?” or “Did you escape from the boutique next door?”
Although at a certain point, fake laughing did start to become unpleasant, I cannot deny that there was a stark contrast between the appearances of my coworkers and mine. They were all mostly gruff, older men, with dusty shirts and gravelly voices, while I was young, chipper, blonde, and most importantly, female.
However, one comment I received will always stick with me. While ringing up a male customer, I was asked, “Name five tools.” Although I knew virtually nothing about building anything or what exactly to build things with, I was disturbed to think that somebody could possibly think I couldn’t even identify basic hardware items despite being surrounded by them each day.
In the moment, I was too stunned by this remark to be able to formulate a satisfying response. I played along with the jest, not in the mood to for a confrontation or to breach the unspoken rule that the customer is always right. However, I often wonder what would have happened had I asked, “Why are you asking me that?” or, “Are you trying to embarrass me?”
The realization that I can push back came to me months later, after seeing a now-famous clip online of filmmaker Woody Allen interviewing Twiggy in the late ‘60s. Twiggy, who had just come to America for the first time at age 17, was interviewed by Allen and asked the question of “What are your views on serious matters?” When prompted with a confused look from the former, Allen elaborated with “Like, who’s your favorite philosopher?” Twiggy’s dismay was evident in this moment, and she replied seemingly sheepishly, “I haven’t got one. I don’t know any.”
What she said next completely changed my perspective on dealing with humiliation. “Who’s yours?” Twiggy then asked Allen. Allen began to stumble, clearly surprised by her response, before ultimately ending on, “I don’t know, I like them all” But Twiggy didn’t stop. She asked him who specifically, and when he replied vaguely once again, claiming to just like “…all philosophers.” Twiggy played further into the role of unawareness Allen had tried to give her. She prodded by stating, “But I don’t know their names. What are their names?”
This small act of flipping the question back on to him left Allen baffled. Often times, people who bully don’t expect a response from their target. Many men, who may feel threatened, or somehow emasculated by the presence of a successful woman, may opt to try and maintain the upper hand by using tactics of humiliation. This is exactly what we saw happen to Twiggy. By asking him his own question, she was able to stand up for herself.
I wish I had seen this clip before dealing with my own experiences of humiliation. Twiggy’s tactic could have provided me with the perfect opportunity to stand up for myself. Although it is very likely that if I had responded to someone asking me to name five tools with “No, you name five tools,” they very well could have been able to, asking the question back to the person may make them question their own motives. In the case that your verbal assailant does, in fact, know a fair amount about the subject of their inquiries, I still believe it is worth your time to ask them why they are asking said question.
My experience and Twiggy’s are certainly not the only times a woman has been embarrassed senselessly. I have heard many examples, from friends, online, or anywhere really, where a woman has been asked to name things. “Name five songs,” “Name five players,” and so on.
It seems that some men have a fear of women’s knowledge and power, as if that makes them any less. Disarming them, with something as simple as words (like Twiggy did to Allen), is an inspiring way to stand your ground.
Although I sympathize with any experience in which a woman has had to undergo any sort of embarrassment at the expense of a man’s ego, I am glad this happened to Twiggy. Her bravery has taught me, and many others, that standing up for yourself is possible, and oftentimes, worth it.