Every once in a while, the powers that be at SAT TV feel the need to give us some additional training in something. One year it was in how to be more polite while answering the phone. Another year it was a computer course. This year it was sensitivity training.
The training course was conducted in the conference room. A screen was set up and the facilitator showed us different slides. There was a test afterward.
The course talked about all kinds of things. I don't remember most of it. The thing that struck a cord with me was when he discussed sexual harassment. He went through all the verbal forms of harassment then talked about inappropriate touch.
Did you know an inappropriate touch is any touch? I didn't either. Turns out inappropriate touch includes things I though were innocent like touching some one's arm during conversation or giving them a hug.
A hug? As he was talking, my mind went back to the day before. I had given our receptionist Carol a hug. Carol has been going through a tough time lately. Her husband left her for a man and her children are moochers. Anyway, I felt sorry for her -- she started to tear up -- so I reach over her desk and gave her a hug.
Carol hadn't actually given me permission to hug her. I just did. Realization stuck me. I'm a sexual harasser. I slumped in my chair. Was anyone looking at me? Did they know what a horrible person I am? How will I ever be able to look anyone in the eye there again?
The training course was conducted in the conference room. A screen was set up and the facilitator showed us different slides. There was a test afterward.
The course talked about all kinds of things. I don't remember most of it. The thing that struck a cord with me was when he discussed sexual harassment. He went through all the verbal forms of harassment then talked about inappropriate touch.
Did you know an inappropriate touch is any touch? I didn't either. Turns out inappropriate touch includes things I though were innocent like touching some one's arm during conversation or giving them a hug.
A hug? As he was talking, my mind went back to the day before. I had given our receptionist Carol a hug. Carol has been going through a tough time lately. Her husband left her for a man and her children are moochers. Anyway, I felt sorry for her -- she started to tear up -- so I reach over her desk and gave her a hug.
Carol hadn't actually given me permission to hug her. I just did. Realization stuck me. I'm a sexual harasser. I slumped in my chair. Was anyone looking at me? Did they know what a horrible person I am? How will I ever be able to look anyone in the eye there again?
