A while ago I was talking to a woman about some of the challenges of being female in academia. She was telling me about her department chair, a lovely dude who simply would not keep his hands to himself. No one wanted to be anywhere near him, but she and her colleague made it a point to “absent-mindedly” open his office door when he was meeting with undergrads, just to make sure everything was okay, and to make excuses to hover near him when he went on the prowl for grad students.
But the whole thing was wearing on her and her attempts to bring it up with the dean had been met with, shall we say, a lack of enthusiasm for taking on this big, important professor.
What recourse did they have, then?
Here is what they did, and they swore to me it worked—they palmed his university ID and then froze it in a block of ice. Yes, like people do with their emergency credit cards. And there it sits, in her freezer, keeping the hot and horny old man unable to perform.
Or so she said.
And I believe her.