I was about 10 years old, it was "bring your daughter to work day." Clenching the back of my mom’s hand, we walked into her office where I was bombarded with introductions, the sounds of printers, fax machines, and telephones. In her tiny cubicle was a picture of my brother and me and a few decretive pieces for a homier vibe. She would put her headset on and answer calls, one after the other. Some of them were so vile I wouldn’t even be allowed to chime in. At the end of the day, after my mom punched out, I turned to her and told her that I will never have an office job.

I started working in the food industry, from the very beginning something about it just clicked. Seeing the look on people’s faces while they ate my food after collaborating with farmers was gratifying. Knowing that I could make a difference with how people saw food motivated me to try to be as successful as I could with this industry.

It wasn’t until culinary school when I realized that I was entering a male-dominated work place. As one of the only women, we would all sit down in class and watch PowerPoints on sexual harassment while the guys would poke fun that this was a “serious” issue. Maybe I was just tired from drinking all night; it was still college after all, but that morning while drinking a cup of coffee one of my classmates asked why I don’t smile. This confused me. I snapped back and told him that he never smiles. He followed with “yeah but I’m a man, you’re a girl. Girl’s are supposed to smile more.” This confused me even more.

After graduating, I started traveling around the east coast and mid-west to expand my resume. It seemed like the douchebaggery just kept getting worse out in the real world. Not only was it agonizing to get “cat-called” on my way to work every day but even more so while trying to do my job. I have yet to experience the pleasure of what it would be like to have a little less testosterone in the work place. Instead, I was hassled with constant reminders of how it was so sexy to see me “bust my ass” yet when it came to lifting my own body weight in produce, that wasn’t allowed.

Priceless expressions on strangers' faces as they asked me what I do for a living, and then assumingly replied with, “Oh, I used to be a server too,” was my favorite part. Once I notified them that I am a line cook, the conversation would change. I always felt the pressure that I had to prove myself for whatever reason to show that I belong. Then it dawned on me. This isn't an issue with me, it's an issue with equality. It doesn’t matter how many of the opposite sex you come across in your profession or the amount of people that try to put you down over some sexist bullshit. The work place should not be biased off of gender. Speak up, understand they are in the wrong, and then. Girl, just do the damn thing.