Receiving, or An Argument for Commuting by Bike

 I agree with the maxim, "Tis more blessed to give than to receive," but for what are assuredly selfish reasons, namely that I would rather be in the empowered position of giving.  Receiving is humble.  

So when I found myself with a dead car and dead battery this morning on the side of the road, I first shuffled through my wallet in order to find my AAA member card, because I figured if I was going to need help I may as well get it from professional helpers, people from whom I would not mind receiving aid.   But I was parked on the side of a residential road, surrounded by doors on which I might knock...around the corner from shops to which I could go... therefore I sat like a bump on a log in my car.  I met the eyes of people driving by, my hood popped open, and dared them to decide to stop.  They didn't.  Small wonder. 

A red Taurus idled past (lost? looking for parking?) and I decided to follow another maxim, "the Lord helps those who help themselves."  I flagged down The Red Taurus.   Krista --aka Good Samaritan-- had the kindness to step out of her car and lend her time and jumper cables, and I was soon able to be on my way.  

Krista seemed honestly pleased to stop and help. Really, I mean, she smiled the whole time and it wasn't because I was smiling at her: I was too busy swearing silently at my car.  It made me think that the neat thing about being in a position of receiving is its reflexive quality; that is, the Giver may also be the Receiver.  In this scenario, though she was technically extending me the gift of time, cables, and a willing attitude, Krista was given the gift of being invaluable to another human being at a particular moment in time.  The outcome of my day depended on her presence in my life.  Krista was made very important. 

A reluctance to receive, then, may in fact be an insult to those around me, sending the message that I am not willing to let them play an important role in my life.  It becomes a matter of control, a question whether or not I have the humility to surrender the reins when it becomes clear I am not enough in and of myself?  Mostly no, I do not.  

C'est la vie.  Back to where I started.  Still, I am grateful to the small kindness of another human and the also small opportunity to practice the posture of receiving.  

Fair Game?

There is a forty-something year old man who comes into my store and acts like junior high boy. That is, he makes dirty jokes, comments on my appearance, tells co-workers he "has a thing for me", tells ME he comes to the store to see me, and then stands by the espresso bar during mid-morning rush and either watches me or tries to make conversation. 

That's sexual harassment, homes.  

I simultaneously feel angry, belittled, and nervous.  Angry because I am a captive audience; he's in my work place where I am stuck behind register or coffee bar.  Belittled because his attention is so unwanted and insensitive that I feel shrunken-- I want to take up less space for him to notice.  And nervous because I am not sure what he will say or do next. 

I am a free, adult woman, and this creep has rendered me fair game for whatever fantasies about nice, blond baristas keep him company at night.  I didn't sign up for the job, but I am nonetheless a participant, even if unwilling.  

On the flip side, I have yet to tell him off.  He has caught me off guard with his innuendo and his pointed interest.  And I am perpetually nice.  It's a bad habit: I am used to seeing sheep and have trouble recognizing a wolf in disguise.  Maybe in someway I have let myself be victimized by not taking a firm stand?  I can either let my co-workers and manager take care of my business while I cower in the corner, or I can muster up my best F-off speech and angry eyes and stand up for myself, refusing to be a part of his perversion.  

I don't want to play into a role that has been played many times before: helpless, harassed female.  That still leaves him in the position of power.  I want to turn the tables and decide whether or not I am an object of a middle-aged man's sexual desire.  I choose NOT.  And when I tell him to start behaving or get lost, I will top it off with a customer-appropriate smile and a damn good cup of coffee thankyouverymuch.