The Poetry of #metoo in Motion

I used to have this boss that sexually harassed me all the time. I wrote about it on here recently – to sum it up, it was pretty gross and involved drugs, guns, power and also he was married with a kid. I left that job, and then I got a new one.

Here I am, five years later, and my new job takes me into all sorts of bars and restaurants in the East Bay. I drove by the old bar, the one where my boss had sexually harassed me. I had heard the rumors. I knew that it had closed. But when I drove by, I noticed that there were people inside. The lights were on.

For purely professional purposes, I parked my car and went to knock on the door. I figured the new owners were in there. I wanted to meet them.

But, of course, who opens the door? My old boss. There he is, looking as wired as ever. And there I was, too, doling out perfunctory greetings. The new owners were in there, and I made my old boss introduce me. I did my little work spiel, did what I needed, and left.

After I left, I realized: I will still be working with that bar after the new owners take it over. My old boss? He’s out.

I’m the last one standing. This is a victory.

Despite the fact that my boss sexually harassed me, I didn’t let it intimidate me out of that career path. He wasn’t the first boss to sexually harass me, me nor was he the last. But none of those fuckers are going to stop me from succeeding. In fact, my goal is to be bigger and better than any of them. But – one step at a time.