My day job is the sort of job populated by floundering ex-Biglaw-types and pays by-the-hour-with-no-benefits (and you thought such employment could only be spyed loitering around McDonalds and Wal-Mart!) and feels more like a grindhouse than a law practice (a term, I had thought, that implies the involvment of some kind of art and expertise). 

I look around my office and I feel both shame and pity.  And not just for the dying, cancerous plaintiffs that we accidentally step on while we throw elbows at the dasterdly incomeptent, lazy and slippery plaintiff lawyers while exploring the nuances of practicing as little law as possible and minimizing overhead (non-billable) expenses while NOT commiting malpractice.  Yes, insurance companies screw over their lawyers, too. 

At my day job, there are two kinds of older men I interact with on a daily basis --  all other men of a certain age are, well, men that happen to be a certain age (or just aren't old enough yet).  Okay, three: "too cranky and important to acknowledge your existence, you silly female peon."  I can't tell if the "female" part is important there.  Anyway, here's my genus-species:

Type 1: Exhibits shameless flirtation, mixed in with some half decent advice on why the job sucks and how to avoid the worst of it, while planning the thirteenth vacation for the year with wife of 30 years; engenders in young female professional both discomfort because of outrageously non-pc statements and affection for the genuine support and encouragement; embraces the fact he can't win, being old, white, and male.  Tells the "gals" they're beautiful as he stops by for chit chat and the usual water cooler fare while at the same time asks for somewhat intelligent input on work-related subjects.  Definite tendency to hang out around the younger female crowd.  But all members of such crowd are part-timers with outside lives and thus necessarily more interesting than their overstressed bill-80-hours-a-week male counterparts.

Type 2: unintentionally sexist ("but you guys are so much BETTER at typing and organization"), the kind that calls young female coworker's name from down the hall, crooks finger at her ("come dog!"), to ask her (politely) to check his emails for him when he's not in office, and why not make a few photocopies (so much for the law degree) while she's at it.  When (perceived?) unintentional sexism is bluntly identified to him (after a particularly bad day), this species feels the need to thereafter, forevermore constantly describe his (alleged*) friendly acquaintence with a plethora of smart accomplished women (including the aggrieved female in question, as a cherry) along with the occasional vivid verbal illustration of his former habitation in hippy-friendly part of philadelphia and involvement in civil rights marches 40 years ago.   Note, incidentally, his lack of interaction (willing or otherwise) with any junior male associates.  Gives young professional female decently interesting work, and compliments her on good work, but is too scatterbrained (or dumb? or lazy? or important) to actually look at such work, requiring instead  endless correction and verbal explanation.  Makes young female feel like priceless hungarian porcelain teapot that cracked and got glued back together with a few missing pieces, yet still must serve hot beverage with a smile.

See, I need to know which I am allowed to be mad at.  Because if I talk to the men I know, type 1 is disgusting and type 2 is misunderstood and unjustly maligned.  But No. 2 definitely makes me angrier. As the reader likely perceives.

And why, if we have "two ends of the hallway" here, one being female, and the other male, and both are equally and perpectually terrifying, brusque, and frustrated, is the female one "scary"? Or is it just me, and she really is just scarier?  I think she is louder, at least.  and the reason I  haven't been fired after blowing a gasket.  she blows more.

* I am an attorney, after all.  No apologies.