Men are a hoot and a half, aren't they? They always assume that when something a woman is using is not working it must be because she is doing it wrong.
Last week, I stopped at a local convivence store and went inside to use the ATM. I swiped my card through several times, but received no response. One of the men who worked there noticed this and came hurrying over, no doubt chuckling to himself, "ah, another woman who doesn't know how to use a simple machine."
"Is this machine working?" I inquired.
He smiled at me the way I would smile at a child.
"Of course it's working."
He then proceeded to take my card from my hand. I started to inform him that i definitely know how to use an ATM card, but thought better of it.
"I've got a few minutes," I thought, "this should be interesting."
He swiped my card through once. Nothing happened. Now his brow furrowed. He swiped it again. Nothing.
"Huh," he mumbled.
He then took the card and rubbed it between two of his fingers. I have to admit, I hadn't thought of trying that. The ole Genie in a Bottle trick, how could I have forgotten?
I waited to see what would happen now that the card had been shown some affection.
My friends, nothing happened.
He then informed me that the machine must not be working!
"Well," I thought, "it's official. It's been verified nonfunctioning by a real person. You know, a man."
This wasn't even the first time something like this happened either, or I wouldn't think much about it.
A few months back, I pulled into a gas station and after swiping my credit card, I pulled up the nozzle and tried to pump the gas. It wouldn't start pumping. I tried a few more times, but nothing.
Of course, it being a self-serve gas station, there was a man to observe all of this and before long, he ambled over next to me.
"Need some help?" he asked with a smile.
"It doesn't seem to be working," I said.
He smiled again. It was nice of him to humor me, I guess.
"You probably swiped your card too quickly," he informed me.
I found this hard to believe since it wasn't my first time pumping gas, but I handed him my card anyway and watched him repeat my whole process.
The furrowed brow soon appeared.
"Hmm...there must be something wrong with this pump," he announced.
Of course I was very grateful that there was a man on the scene to verify my earlier conclusion.
When I was very young, and a man appeared, I immediately stepped out of the way, thankful that he was there to handle said situation, and absolutely beyond certain that, as a man, he could.
But by time I was 30, I would get resentful of this and could get nasty at the sight of a "get out of the way, I know how to do it, I'm a man" ambling my way.
These days, I just find it all so funny. So, when I'm having trouble, when I just know there's something wrong with the machine and a man comes running, I stand back, tilt my head at them, and enjoy the subsequent show.
I'll take my amusements where I can, I guess.
And I will tell you, at this point in my life, I love having men around to lift shit. So I will put up with this other nonsense as long as they agree to carry my boxes. And they do. People, they do agree! Happily agree.
I call this a win-win. I know the incels would have a different take, and I want to encourage any incels who may be reading this to send me your complaints. I am very interested. Email me at firstname.lastname@example.org. I will totally answer!