Dear Lady Who Works At My University,

It is true that I am young(ish)** and female. It is also true that I was wearing jeans. You would certainly be excused from thinking, on a quick glance, that I am a student and not a faculty member. But, once you interacted with me, once I had begun to ask questions that no student would ask, surely it should have dawned on you that I am a faculty member and, therefore, authorized to ask for certain services that you are supposed to provide.

I waited patiently while you assisted two other faculty members before me — both male — so I am aware that you are capable of providing said services with a level of professionalism, accuracy, and even (dare I say it?) a little harmless flirtation. It seems patently obvious that you could have answered the questions I asked you, but that you chose not to. Your rudeness and unhelpfulness were quite a marked change from your behavior towards the two before me. What am I to make of your attitude: that you thought I was an impertinent student taking up your precious time (when surely even students deserve a modicum of politeness) or that you are a misogynist bitch? I am definitely leaning towards the latter.

So, thank you, Lady, for putting me in my place, reminding me that neither my advanced degree, my many years of labor for this university, or my status as a human being make me worthy of your assistance.

For that I would require a penis.

Sincerely, The Bittersweet Girl

** I’m not even that young anymore. I am no longer young enough to be considered youthfully beautiful, to get out of bed in the morning without a few groans and stretches, or to eat anything I want without consequence. But I am apparently still young enough to be disrespected. I fear that I will be that young until I am suddenly old enough to be disrespected for being an old lady.