My first real job was selling tickets at a brand new movie theater in a mall near my home. I was sixteen and felt like an adult for the first time in my life. I took my job seriously and was determined to do it well.
The Terrace was the perfect place to work. I not only got paid to sit and sell tickets, I also got two free passes to all the theaters in town. I could see every new movie as many times as I wanted. I saw True Grit sixteen times!
As if that weren’t enough to satisfy this new independent woman’s heart, I could also have all the popcorn and soda my skinny little body could consume. That was far more than you might imagine. I think they might have lost money with that perk!
I loved my job, and I did it well. Counting money was no problem for me, and giving change was second nature. I had it made and could not believe such good fortune had befallen me. My disillusioned dream state was disrupted one evening as I headed upstairs to tally the totals for the night.
My boss was not a nice man, so everyone steered clear of him whenever possible. He had an ugly mole on his face and combed his gray hair over his balding head. He told inappropriate jokes and had a tendency to leer at the girls. I ignored him and did my job, but I could not ignore him when it was time to count money.
I usually followed him upstairs after the last movie began, but on this particular evening, he insisted on my going up first. I was taught that ladies should always go first, so I thought perhaps my boss had a change of heart and was just being polite until his grubby hand made its way up my dress and rested on my behind.
I spun around and told my boss that if he ever touched me again, I would tell my daddy. I also described what my father’s reaction would be. My speech was fervent and filled with vivid imagery. Since my boss did not want his teeth or other essential appendages to end up on the floor, he began apologizing with a tone and manner I had never seen in him before.
He walked upstairs ahead of me after that, and I gained a sweet sense of empowerment. Like a predator who had mistaken a young rattlesnake for a timid milk snake, my boss quickly dropped his prey and never made the same mistake again.
I’ve often wondered if I should have told my parents about my dirty old boss. I think daddy would have been proud of the way I handled the situation. He would not, however, be proud of the way I handled other predators who made their way into my path.
It’s funny how I had more courage at sixteen than I had in my twenties and fifties. If I had always taken the same approach as that empowered young teen, my journey would have been much different. The attention #MeToo is getting caused me to pause and think about the importance of seeing predators for what they are and standing up to them as my sixteen-year-old self did.
God has been trying to get me to see the light, and someone else having the courage to turn on their own light helped me to do just that. It’s not easy to shine a light on predators who are in positions that make preying easy for them. Bosses, mentors, teachers, coaches, ministers, family members, and trusted friends cross lines and make standing up to them difficult or impossible. I admire those who stand up even when their predators have the power, money, and influence to destroy them.
Katherine Kendall was Harvey Weinstein’s first victim to be heard, not the first to speak out. She says she was 23 when he convinced her to come to his apartment. He has allegedly been behaving in a predatory fashion for decades. It breaks my heart that so many were possibly hurt by him, knowing that no amount of money or vengeance will ever bring back the person his victims were before encountering him. One is never the same after an encounter with a predator. The body may survive the encounter, but the spirit and heart are rarely repaired.
Evil’s greatest power is its ability to pass itself off as good, and no one is better at doing that than a predator. Weinstein has won numerous awards, has been hailed as a genius, and has been courted by politicians and other powerful players. He is getting a taste of how powerlessness affects the human soul. If he is guilty, I pray he finds the opportunity to reflect upon how many people he put in that same position. It’s not for me to judge Weinstein or any of the predators in my path. That is reserved for God. I can, however, stand up with confidence to those who see me as less than God created me to be and tell them they will have to deal with my Daddy if they mess with me.
journeywithgigi 