First of all, let me say. I was like 17, I really liked horses and money. Stupid, stupid, naive girl.
Anyway, here’s the scoop. I was working in a little family deli right outside the rural part of my city. I’m talking the sticks. Everyone knows everyone, and we’re all family, especially regular customers. So one of our regulars, maybe 55 year old gentlemen, came in for the first time in a year. We’ll call him Ricardo Shilly-Shally. So Mr. Shilly-Shally overhears me complaining behind the counter about needing to make a little more money. He chimes in about his horse stables down the street. He said he could really use an extra hand around taking care of his horses.
So I show up for my first day, basically for a tour and to address legal things like if a horse kicks me in the face, if I turn out to be an illegal alien, and all that jazz. Then we go over the basics of the professional horse showing business. No red flags yet right? I mean, he did comment that he needs another lady around the stables. Oh, then he did mention how his company could use a pretty face like mine. Alright, so that’s not out of line.
He said he would pay me whatever I would like just so I could be around as much as possible. I’m thinking “I bet horses would prefer a woman’s touch now and then. Plus lots of money? So far so good!”
He mentions how he takes his crew out to lunch every day at his country club, and how well he treats his employees. Then he insists we go to the country club for a bite to finish discussing the matters of my employment. I’m like… Ok, I’ll follow you in my car. But as the restaurant is just around the corner, he insists I ride with him and that he doesn’t bite.
Okayyyy, so I go… expecting more professional discussion. At lunch he tells me to order anything I’d like, then he begins the personal questions. He asked about family, my school, church, and why the deli wasn’t the job for a girl like me. I’m like – Ok, he’s evaluating my character as a potential employee. This is where the red flags start waving.
Then. Then. Then. He says – no lie –
“You probably don’t remember the first time we met. It was 3 summers ago.” Oh No.
“You were at the deli and you were looking just beautiful” Oh Please No.
“I just remember how lovely your breasts looked that first day. My goodness.” Oh SHIT.
My eyes got really big, and I politely thanked him for the nicest compliment. Brought up how my get my looks from my father. My height too, he’s 6’7. I talk about how my daddy raised me to be humble and thankful and how I’m such a daddy’s girl. I also bring up my boyfriend who was expecting me shortly, and who happened to live just a few miles away. He thinks I’m lovely too.
Mr. Shilly-Shally quickly apologizes for making me feel uncomfortable and says, don’t worry this will be fine. This will all be alright. As if he intends to keep his admiration in check while I am at work.
I pretend like it will be okay, and told him I’ll call him…
Then I got the hell out of dodge.