It def blows that you had to watch Harvey Weinstein jerk off into a potted plant, and that’s not cool at all. However, and I realize this is an unpopular opinion, if I had a choice between overhearing inappropriate jokes at my cushy studio gig or dealing with a lot of the shit I’ve had to deal with, I would definitely go with the plant jerking.
Years ago, when I first moved to LA, I was broke. I got a job hanging Christmas lights onto commercial buildings from an ad I saw on Craigslist. This entailed climbing up giant wobbly ladders with a big tub of lights hoisted on your shoulder.
Like most people I am afraid of heights but I might be slightly more afraid of heights than the average person. Now that I think about it, I am not really afraid of heights so much as death. Death by falling off of a ladder and plunging to my death.
This one morning, as we were hanging lights onto a Toyota dealership, one of these giant ladders seemed much less stable than usual. It was buckling in the middle. I hesitated to climb onto it, and my knees started wobbling.
At this point, the guy who had hired me to do this, who never actually climbed up the ladders by the way, said to me, and I quote:
“You said you weren’t afraid of heights, you fucking idiot.”
I briefly considered punching him right in his face, and that has only happened a handfull of times in my life. Instead of doing that, I just climbed up the ladder.
I would have genuinely preferred to watch a portly man jerk off into a ficus.
Keep in mind, I was making ten dollars an hour, and not millions of dollars.
I was fired the next day.
Another time, when I was in high school, I had a job at a lumbermill in Fairbanks, Alaska.
I was tasked with shredding excess pieces of wood.
The way it works is, boards have to be trimmed down to a specific length. Basically four, eight, ten, twelve, eighteen, and twenty foot pieces. They are cut roughly first so as to eliminate the rotten pieces and then my job as the trimmer was to decide if they should be, say, ten, or twelve foot planks.
I realize this is boring, but so are all women’s stories about work.
I stood above a chain driven conveyor belt and trimmed the pieces down to the exact lengths I specified earlier.
As I trimmed off the excess blocks of wood they would fall into the conveyor, which funneled directly into a chipper, which would shred them to pieces immediately, turning them into a blast of sawdust.
The weird thing about this job was that the shredder was located almost directly underneath where I was standing as I was sawing these things.
You might think I was standing on a set platform, but I was not.
I was actually standing on two of the same boards that I was tasked with shredding.
These would be two four by sixes or something like that, and they would bend to about a thirty degree angle when being stood upon.
If they were to break, which seemed a definite possibility at the time, I would have been drug onto the conveyor belt and had my leg shredded to dust within about four seconds.
After that I was usually tasked with shoveling out the sawdust on a giant industrial chainsaw. This entailed wading thigh high into the sawdust of an actual saw with four foot diameter blades hanging over my head.
This is not hyperbole.
If someone were to not know I was in this confined area, which featured no cameras or warning system, and should have happened to fire up the saw I would have immediately had my limbs sawed off.
It should be noted that nobody at this facility knew what they were doing and were almost exclusively alcoholic and several were missing digits.
I was making $7.45 an hour at the time, I believe most hollywood actresses earn a greater rate.
I would have definitely preferred to watch some trollish motherfucker jerk off while the door was open.
I am not trying to minimize the plight of actual victims, at all, but I also draw a severe distinction between being raped and some dude being an asshole.