"I can answer that question: yes. Specifically, me-I'm the woman who ruined the workplace. And, frankly, I had a blast. From the moment that I, a woman, entered the workplace, it was irrevocably changed. And not for the better. On my first day, I arrived with a hopeful heart, excited to serve our clients and become a member of the team. "LOOK SHARP, BUTTHEADS!" I bellowed. "IT'S WOMAN TIME!" Things didn't improve when I insisted on being called the Cap'n."
"Much of how I ruined the workplace has to do with the accommodations that I, as a woman, require. Because of me, male employees are no longer allowed to make lewd jokes, hold men-only work gatherings, or type with their penises. Yes, this has ruined the workplace, although it has also drastically reduced typos. I also insisted that our company upgrade to more woman-friendly lighting. Specifically, with the fixtures that I made from feminine-hygiene products."
"I try to make ruining the workplace a daily practice. Like this morning, when I practiced "being a daredevil" and crashed my sedan into our reception area. Yes, Beth may never walk without a limp, but she'll understand. She's a woman. Plus, this now gives me the opportunity to remodel our entryway into a giant, exquisitely detailed vulva. Boom-workplace ruined."
A woman claims responsibility for deliberately "ruining the workplace" through disruptive behavior and by imposing accommodations that change office norms. She recounts loud entrances, demanding to be called the Cap'n, banning lewd jokes and men-only gatherings, and altering facilities with feminine-hygiene fixtures. She describes extreme acts including crashing a car into reception, injuring a colleague, and redesigning the entryway into a vulva. She frames these actions as expressions of gendered differences, asserting men are stronger and assertive while women are sensitive, empathetic, and prone to chaotic mischief such as filling a car with bees.
Read at The New Yorker
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