As a chick, I face prejudice everyday in this business. Just last week an older man asked me (in an undeniably condescending tone), “Do they let you help pick out any of the wines here?”; By they; do you mean the boss? Because that would be me.

Now, I’m not a Doogie Howser by any means. And I never show it outwardly, and I try not to let it…but shit like this does bother me from time to time. I usually blow it off and come up with a clever, humble remark. I know it’s their mistake/ignorance.

Sometimes an employee will help me out. A woman I had been helping said to one of my male employees (who looks slightly older than me), "She’s very good. I hope you pay her well." He replied, “Actually she pays me, and yeah, she rocks.” I laughed, it was funny. But it was also not funny.

And that’s why a book I saw today made me want to puke. Wine For Women, by some baby boomer in a pantsuit, makes wine easier for women to understand by comparing wines to… outfits! Yeah! (Chardonnay = little black dress, got it!) Hey, while you’re at it? Metaphysics is sooo hard–maybe if someone did Plato’s Allegory of the Cave…with Barbies! I think I would like, totally, get it.

You burned your bras to bring us this shit? Thanks a lot.

This book really chaps my ass. Not because I’m a raging feminist, but because of what it implies. Women eat. Women drink. Why should either of those things be harder for us to fucking grasp?

The truth: women have been scientifically proven to be better tasters. Probably goes back to all that gathering when we kept the whole tribe alive. And women, with our often superior listening skills and intuition, make better salespeople. Women buy a majority of the wine in this country, too. Why some of us still choose to subjugate ourselves is beyond me. Especially when we could just take over.

Viva las chicas.