This happened a few years back. While working my new job as a restaurant dishwasher, I quickly began to notice that a certain line cook treated the waitresses incredibly poorly. Let’s call him Greg. If they were over 18, he’d pretty regularly remind them how beautiful they were. Not only that, since he and I were the same age, he’d try and get me in on the shenanigans too. When I refused to participate, he’d immediately jump to questioning my sexuality. Real winner, that one.
Fast forward a few weeks. I was busy cleaning back of house, and Greg just happened to be following a female line cook on her way to the freezer — let’s call her Jenn. Jenn was 18, in a relationship, and in high school, he was 24, in a relationship, and a father. Per usual, Greg was reminding Jenn she had a face. Per usual, when I refused to join in, Greg asked if I was gay. Cue the revenge:
“Oh Greg, if I was gay, do you really think I could keep my hands off you?”
I think he might have said something back, but couldn’t hear him over the sound of Jenn at that particular moment.
Never heard him hit on female coworkers again. Never heard him call me gay again. And of course, Jenn rather enjoyed telling the story to their fellow cooks. While standing next to Greg.