Since about 1992, I have mostly worked jobs revolving around car repair of some sort. Longer, if you want to count being a cashier in a truck stop convenience store, but I don't. My first real car job was changing oil in one of those quickie lube 10 minute places. I just kind of fell into the job, didn't really know any better. It was me and a bunch of boys. From there, I went to various dealerships where I continued to change oil and do other repair work, then moved up the ladder (and down on my ass) to the sit down job of service adviser. I'm the one who greets you when you drive in, finds out what your problem is, then tells you how much it's going to cost to fix it. Even in this day and age, a predominantly male occupation.
If you've read my old stuff (and if you haven't, you really should. I'm pretty hilarious.) you know that my third level of Hell would be to have to work with nothing but women. I've done it, and it was not good for me. I've never been much of a girly girl, and I really don't understand us as a species. So the fact that I'm generally surrounded by boys is actually pretty good for me. And it prepared me for what has become my home life: generally surrounded by boys.
You'll notice I call them boys. This is because of the first and most important rule of working (and living) with them: No matter how old they get, they are still boys. They like shiny things, going fast, and boobies. Maybe not in that order all the time, but always. You can't expect adult behavior out of them, they just don't know how. They will always have the attention span of a gnat, and will usually giggle like school children over the most immature jokes. I often say that I may look like a grown ass woman, but deep down inside I'm just a 12 year old boy. But men? Their 12 year old boy is right there, just under the manly surface. And it stays there. Forever. So to survive, you have to have a sense of humor. The more messed up, the better.
It's also important to learn the wives' names, and use them. Often. These women are your friends. You know that 10 hours a day you have to spend with that guy? They have to put up with his ass the other 14. They know. But they can also be your worst enemy, if they don't trust him, or don't trust him with you, or just plain don't trust you. Hell hath no fury like a wife scorned, so you don't want to do anything that could ever possibly be construed as scorning her. Do not betray that trust, or you will pay forever. Always use her name in everyday conversation with their husbands, and said husbands will be less likely to try to betray that trust, also. Anybody can have a wife, and still live free and be bad. But when they actually hear you say "I bet Carrie loves when you talk like that," it makes it personal. Now they run the risk of pissing off Carrie, and that would be bad. Plus, everybody likes to be called by name. It's just nicer. I also learned the hard way with phoning them: never just ask for the co-worker you called to talk to. Ever. No, you say "Hi, Carrie, this is Jill from your husband's place of work. May I speak to him for a moment?" The reaction is a whole lot better than hearing a girl's voice say "Is John there?" A whole lot. John will thank you, too.
You also must get used to having multiple older brother figures. They tease me mercilessly. Of course, I throw it right back at them, but there is a pesky little sister/ annoying older brother quality to our interactions. They will pick on me all day, call me names, do all the things brothers do. But they will also kick the ass of any outsider who tries to do the same thing. For those of us who didn't grow up with any brothers, it's actually pretty cool. Are you jealous yet?
One thing you have to remember though is where to look. Or more importantly, where not to look. Most guy places have some sort of "locker room" set up. Normally in shops, it's kind of buried in the back, away from where the general public goes. It is never air conditioned, and rarely heated. Because of this, there is a door somewhere which usually stays open. Don't look there. Ever. There are things about my co-workers I just don't want to know. Which ones wear the tidy whiteys is definitely on that list. Again: don't look. Just don't. Ever. You've been warned.
They also ask a lot of questions. See, for all their perceived knowledge, men are still pretty clueless about the opposite sex. We confuse them. This is mainly due to the lack of blood flow to the brain when they are with us, but it's still a very real phenomenon. So they ask me things like "Why does my wife do this, or say this, or think this?" Be careful how you answer. Always ask first: "Do you want to know the truth?" Then ask again before telling him the truth, just to make sure. Sometimes they don't like the answer.
Don't forget though, boys are icky. This is not meant as an insult, but it's the truth. Girls: They pee standing up! On purpose! Sometimes into fixtures resembling animal feeding troughs! All at the same time! Right next to each other! And when they are forced to pee into an actual toilet, they miss! Not just sometimes, either. Every. Single. Damn. Time! But they keep doing it! On purpose! I know, right? And even they know they are icky, because they won't even touch each other! When they are hurt and need bandaged, need their ponytail fixed, need their tie tied, etc. who do they come to? Another boy? Ewww, no! Nobody else will do these things for them! They seek out the girls. Because even though we know they're icky, we're used to it by now and will help them anyway.
For the most part though, when you are the only one and you speak their language, they tend to forget you're not one of them. This is really cool. Sometimes I feel like Jane Goodall being accepted into the chimpanzee family. I used to think they just forgot I was there. But now I have learned, they know I'm there, they just forget I'm a girl! Evidenced by the salesman who once started a question with "If you were a girl..." I answered, "Well, if I was in fact a girl,....." and he didn't even notice!
All in all though, I wouldn't trade my life for anything. I feel I'm bi-lingual, and I am able to translate at the drop of a hat. (UN, are you hiring?) I always understand the inside jokes. They don't look at me funny when I giggle at things. I don't have to explain why I'm giggling; they are, too! I have learned to fear, respect, and love these glorious creatures we call the opposite sex. Now, if we can just work on that whole pee thing.
