barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen...

Yes, today I was a stereotype.

I am a kitchen designer, and today I spent most of the day without my shoes on. My feet didn't hurt, but I was hot and the cool tile felt good.

This afternoon I noticed that someone had parked behind my car, blocking me in. Our parking lot is way overcrowded. It looks like a used car lot. But we have four spots reserved for the three of us that work here and a client space. I'm so sick of it - I wanted to get out to go get something to eat. So I went to the business next door and asked to speak to someone about the parking. The guy I spoke with was very nice, but then the owner of the company got involved.

Imagine a 6'4", 350lb, hairy smokey man with a beer gut. Rides a motorcycle. He decides to get in my face. "Look, lady, this is a temporary situation." I wasn't having any of that. "No, this happens every day. At least once or twice a week someone is in my spot, or blocks me in." He interrupted me to say, "No, I mean we're leaving in a few months, so it won't be a problem anymore."

That's great, but what am I supposed to do in the mean time? What if I go into labor? What if, like earlier this week, there's an emergency and I need to get out quickly? The first guy said, apologetically, "You have to understand... We have maybe 30, 40 people working over there..." To which I responded, "That is not my problem. MY problem is, I can't get my car out!"

Big Mean Owner Guy got in my face, AGAIN. Smoking. "I'M WAITING FOR THE TRUCK TO MOVE!" Yeah, well, I don't care. And don't try to intimidate me, you jackass. I'm angry, I'm pregnant, and I don't give a flying fuck what you think of me. No, I didn't say all that, I just stared him down and talked louder than him 'til he gave up and walked away.

When I went back into the studio, I heard the two of them out there talking smack about me. Well, Owner Guy was talking smack, the other guy sounded like he just wanted to get back to work. I couldn't care less what he thinks of me. I told him as my parting shot that, if I had to get out in a hurry, I'd either run over his precious motorcycle or just take it. Either way, he wasn't keeping me from going where I needed to go.

Why is it that some people, when confronted with a legitimate complaint, respond in anger? I didn't start the anger cycle, I was very polite and trying to be understanding. Until I got a face full of smoke and jackass.

My coworker, N-- was laughing hysterically at me when I got back. "Were you barefoot the whole time out there?!" Yup. Barefoot, pregnant, and pissed as all get-out. There's a reason it's a stereotype. ;-)