The call finally came, my friend from the Korean association. I'd been telling myself I needed to call and just say hello since I departed so rapidly from the uncomfortable lunch last week but I just couldn't bring myself to do that. Instead, I waited. Here is as close to an actual recording as I can get:
Me: Hello? [Guess what? I know his number.]
Him: Hi! Jessica! I've been meaning to call you!
Me:.....[panic at potentially having to explain sexism to this man]...
Him: Yeah, you did not eat very much last week and....I have been very worried
Me: Why??
Him: Well, I am just worried you are not getting proper nutrition...you may be undernourished...
Me: [in the most positive, upbeat, totally-not-uncomfortable voice possible] OH! You don't need to worry about that! I'm fine! I just don't eat very much! Thanks for your concern! Have a great weekend!
Him: OK, bye.
It struck me that I was protecting this man from the truth. First, that I hated the lunch; second, that I hate talking politics with...well, anyone; third, that I felt alone there and like I wasn't ready for the responsibility; fourth, that I thought he was a raging sexist; fifth, that if he was joking, he didn't know me well enough to do so.
But my mom taught me a long time ago that people don't just change. You can't convince an old Korean man that Loretta Sanchez is rad or that hunks of steaming meat are not rad. He's just going to do his thing and I'm going to have to do mine. Confrontation is pointless and the best plan for me is to make it ok so I can just do my job. A friend reminded me, brilliantly, that in the future it's "against company policy" to accept any meals from clients.
But it was really hard to not say: "BITCH PLEASE! I'm overweight by like 40 pounds!" Yes, I understand you can be overweight and not be getting the proper nutrients but it does look pretty ridiculous for him to tell someone 15 inches and 75 pounds more than him that he's worried I'm "undernourished."
In other news, Charles Phoenix is tomorrow and I am so excited. Charles holds a special little place in my heart. I hope to post pictures this weekend from that event.
Glad the week is over. Decided to write a term paper on this instead of my perception that all women executives at my work are embarrassingly underpaid when compared to their more penis-enabled cohorts. It just made me feel too much like burning a bra. This is more timely and makes me feel like eating hummus so I can let my friend know I am a-ok on the nutrition front.
p.s. Don't tell the cats we're taking them to get microchipped tomorrow morning. I'm tired of worrying about them getting out because they insist on being naked (read:collarless).
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