An unbelievable visit to the auto parts store...

This is a rather surprising segue from the events of my recent journey…

Yesterday it was no sooner than I had I left the driveway on my way to visit Mom, that I heard the taillight-trouble warning tone.  Darn.  Poorly-timed indeed. So I called my mechanic to see if he could do a quick fix for me if I brought him the parts.  “Yes, but don’t forget the fuse” was his answer.   And that’s where this story begins…

My choice of parts store was in a nearby town.  It wasn’t the one where I found the male clerk wearing a skirt a while back.  (She hasn’t been there in my last 3 visits.)  So I tried a different store.  When I walked in, there was a 20something male clerk and a very friendly androgynous female assistant (though initially I wasn’t sure of her gender) puttering around the showroom.

Bear in mind: I was wearing tan shorts with a rather short – for a guy – inseam, women’s black polo, bare legs and white Keds, with my long hair, long shiny pink nails, and purse.  No makeup, no jewelry.  Though I had shaved my face only a couple hours before which minimized the beard shadow, and also had epilated my arms and legs the night before.   And the store was not well-lit…enhancing the effect of the above accoutrements.

That same store used to have a friendly elderly male clerk, who never used gender-specific terms for me.   He’s gone.

Instead, the new male clerk quickly addressed me as “Sir.”  I didn't notice that he looked up, but he could have seen me while I was coming in the door.     And I’m still not sure whether he clocked me, or was just being contrary.  I looked over at the assistant and rolled my eyes, then looked back toward the clerk and asked him for the parts I needed.  After he did some keyboard-punching, he went in the back to find the parts.  By this point, after hearing her voice when she was speaking to the clerk, I was fairly certain she was female, despite her short, masculine hair style, a bustline very similar to mine (yes, some girls ARE built this way), and jeans with tee shirt.

She took the initiative and spoke first:  “Don’t worry, Ma’am…that same thing happens to me all the time.  You’re not alone.  Nobody ever believes I’m really a girl.  Here or anywhere else.  I’ve just gotten used to it.  The problems are that we don’t get many women in here, and also men’s attitudes toward us.  Why can’t - why shouldn't - women work on their cars?  What some guys don’t recognize is that we girls rule!  Hang in there, honey!!”

I replied (quickly as the male clerk was returning) “Thanks, Ma’am, you’re so kind and understanding. You go, girl!  I hope we’re eventually able to enlighten folks like him about what makes us girls tick.”

Conversation was over, because just then, the clerk walked in with my parts.   I heard the S-word again…so I hope the girl talked to him and maybe was able to teach him a thing or two.  If they happened to look at my name on the credit card receipt after I left, it put the issue to rest…my given name is now a girls' name.  

But I’m sure glad I don’t work there.   I suspect this guy won’t last very long…

The interesting part was “passing” well enough that the woman fully accepted me as female, while the guy "assumed" (or something) that I was male.   Fascinating.

Mandy

Now, back to writing about my excursion...