living in the real world

This past spring a few friends and I set out to rent our very first apartment. After going through my first year of university living in residence, I was ready to live in The Real World. Of course, choosing a place four people can agree on is never easy, but with one of those roommates being a guy, it certainly changed the whole dynamic.

We finally found a place that we could all agree on. It was cheap and close to the university. The landlord, John, was friendly and helpful over the phone. When we met John to get the keys from him, though, he blew me away. Not once did he address me, a paying tenant of his, directly. Not once did he even acknowledge my existence—except when I was handing him the rent cheques. Not once did he so much as make eye contact with any of the three girls. Just Jeremy, the great cook and apparently, the only one who was qualified to “talk business”. 

Are you kidding me? I felt like I was living in an awful throwback to Mad Men. I think that the combination of being a student (also known as a teenager, also known as someone who doesn’t receive the same treatment an adult would at restaurants, theatres, shops, or anywhere, really) and being a woman was what caused this otherwise quite competent man to behave in a way that I would classify as blatantly discriminatory.  

Call me naïve, but I thought sexism to that degree was quite rare presently, and heavily penalized if it ever occurred. The most discrimination I have ever had to face was probably just some dumb guys in high school making idiotic jokes about women, and I think I am lucky to be able to say that. But this was an active discrimination, and the worst part was that no one had acknowledged that it happened—no one but me even noticed.

We still have the majority of the year left on our lease, and I intend to assert myself so much around him that I am impossible to ignore. John’s treatment provided me with a shock to the system, but I’m glad that this was my first experience as my own entity in The Real World. Living on my own and paying bills is terrifying enough without people like John to give you crap, so next time something bizarre happens, I know I’ll be more prepared to handle it… like an adult.