What's in a Word

At one time in my life I worked for the state of Oregon and had to eventually leave because I couldn’t handle working with so many unethical and lazy ass people. Granted there were many good people there but they were usually kept in a cage for viewing. For a Pirate it was rough. Rarely did I go a whole week without pissing off someone either by having a different opinion or by something I said.

One example of going against the current there was the day I used the word “gal” in a harmless sentence. I wasn’t being derogatory or belittling in any way. It is a word that is used in an endearing way where I come from; Oregon.

I got a call from the boss and he wanted to see me in his office at once. So I go down there to see what the urgency was. He sat me down and started in on one of his, “beat around the bush” approaches of getting somewhere the long way. “I realize Pirate you grew up in a small logging community and you may not have had the experiences of you know, the social graces”. Which was short for you’re a dumb ass hick, boy. “Apparently you used a term in your presentation yesterday that many found very inappropriate and socially unacceptable.”

My mind was rushing about. “What did I say?” Did I say fuck, shit, what could I have said. Oh my god did I say the “N” word? I was replaying the whole presentation I had given the prior day in my head. Zip, Zip, (this is the tapes rewinding) man what. Then I asked him what did I say?

“Pirate you used the word, gal.” He told me standing above me looking down, over his glasses at me with inflamed indignation.

I looked at him and said, “You’re shittin’ me? That’s it?”

“Yes, that’s it. It’s a bad word in today’s society.”

“What society are you Californian immigrants living in? It sure and hell isn’t Oregon,” I told him. Now you can see why I was such a bad influence on my coworkers, I actually had a mind of my own.

“I have decided to send you to a ‘Diversity Class’ to allow you to save your job.” He informed me.

Off to “Diversity Class” I went. At least it’s an easy day for pay. I mean how difficult could it be? I have no problem accepting other people and their differences. I was taught to appreciate all people in my little backwoods village, regardless of their gender, race, age or religion. Even their sexual preference wasn’t my concern.

Man talk about a bunch of crack pots making a killing off the state. Here I was in an auditorium with nothing but men being told that we were all bigots and chauvinists and certainly not worthy of life. Hell some of us could very well have been Christians. These people were nuts. After a Hitler type ranting by the militant woman libber running facilitating the class she passed out a list of words that were deemed to be inappropriate and we were to be re-educated about them. I’m not kidding, this is true and your tax dollars were hard at work.

The list had words like gal, woman, broad, chick, dame and several inappropriate racial words as well. Finally I had to say something. I couldn’t sit there without some type of response. I said, “Madam, why is the word ‘woman’ on this list?” I don’t think Madam was good either. She looked at me with kill in her eyes. “Its because the word ‘woman’ is an acronym for wife of man”. She was serious; I could see her fantasizing about pinching my nuts off. She was furious that some lily-white honky mother fucking asshole from Hicksville had the audacity to ask her such a stupid question.

“Oh, I see, so now what is it an acronym for? Wife of mine?”

The place full of men erupted into laughter.

“And why is gal on here?” some guy in the back yelled out.

This I had to hear. She told us without batting an eye, “Its because in some places in the south white men refer to their chattel, like cows and slaves as ‘gals’”.

Then someone yelled out, “Why aren’t there any words here about men?”

“Because men don’t get upset about these types of things,” was her other stupid ass response.

That was all I could take I got up and left. As I was leaving I was asked what my name was and why I was leaving. I told her my name was Pirate and I had to go check on my gals at the farm.

This was not the only stupid ridiculous downright useless thing the state put me through in my 14-½ years with those socialist fascist pigs. It only got worse from there.