Everyone can go to the station, and everyone does. Whether it's to fill up your tank, pick up your cigarettes, or grab some snackies before heading into the movie theater, most of us find a reason to go to the gas station. Some of us even go several times a day. We're regulars.

My first ever job was at a gas station. I loved the hell out of that job... Yeah, it was kind of a crusty job, but I really loved it. I loved meeting new people and establishing relationships with the regulars. Memorizing cigarettes and who smoked what. Who chewed what tobacco. Who always wanted a bag. Who never took a receipt. Who was grabbing lunch before starting their shift at midnight. Who was going to buy a Powerball an hour before it was drawn. I learned about customer service and communication. About pricing and tobacco. About the customer always being right.

And I learned about sexual harassment.

I know being a gas station attendant is pretty glamorous, but believe it or not, the uniforms are not the most attractive. But it doesn't matter what you're wearing, people will still find reasons to flirt with you.

I had dealt with sexual harassment before. I've always been a busty gal, and it's definitely a challenge to hide my hips and tushy as well. Unfortunately, it became normal to hear comments and jokes about my body. But it wasn't until I lost weight, and kept some curves, that the comments got more serious and more sexual.

I'm an ambivert; I can be introverted and extroverted. A lot of times, I avoided people, though. Well, I should say people avoided me. I don't blame them; I'm loud and obnoxious. But when I started working at the gas station, I was forced to interact with people. (Oh no...)

My natural instinct is to talk and crack jokes. I'll talk about anything, and my wit allows me to make a joke pretty quickly. In the end, I look like a dork, but that's just who I am. I make things awkward, turn red in the face, hand them their receipt, and tell them to have a nice day. When I asked if they had gas, I expected them to reply with, "Well that's a personal question," or "No, I take Bean-O." I didn't expect for them to offer to take me out now that they've filled up their tank. For them to say they wanted a Hot Lotto from the hottie. For them to watch me as I bent down to get their cigarillos. For them to ask for a receipt with my phone number on it. For them to call the store from the parking lot to ask me out. For them to offer to give me hickies under my uniform. Shockingly, I didn't expect any of that.

I will admit, it was flattering. I had never gotten attention from anyone. All of a sudden I had people eyeing me as I walked around the store. Asking for my number. Wanting to smoke a cigarette with me. Before then, nobody even wanted to sit next to me in class.

But it all got pretty old, pretty fast. It became normal to feel uncomfortable. It was all too much. There were too many of them. The attention went from every once in a while, to once a week, to every single shift I worked. I didn't want people commenting on my body. I didn't want people following me around the store. I didn't want people waiting in the parking lot until I closed the store. I didn't want people treating me like an object they could ogle. But that's exactly what happened.

I brought it up to my coworkers. Was I the only one dealing with all of this? Was this all just in my head? No. Most of the women I worked with were putting up with the sexual harassment. I asked what could be done. There had to be something. But apparently... Nothing. Nothing could be done. Sexual harassment just comes with the job. I had to find a way to build a thick skin, just like they had.

I never built a thick skin. With each passing day, I became more and more stressed. More and more on edge. I was tired of being asked about my virginity. Seeing men stare at me through the window as they exited the store. Having to carry pepper spray to fend off the ones who waited for me at the end of the night when I was closing the store. Feeling uncomfortable while they talked about all the ways they could make me blush. I couldn't take it. Call me a baby, but I just couldn't take it.

At first, I questioned what I was doing wrong. What I was doing to deserve this kind of treatment. How people could find me attractive. Why they would even look at me in that way. Why it was so difficult for me to handle these situations, while my other coworkers brushed everything off of their shoulders. But then, I was told something that had never occurred to me, even though it was so incredibly obvious. I was told that I have the right to feel comfortable in my workplace. I know that sexual harassment isn't okay, but I still tried to find a way to put up with it. I still tried to find a way to put up with something I didn't need to put up with.

I don't work at the gas station anymore, and I probably won't ever again. Now, I kind of have this weird thing about feeling comfortable at work. Unfortunately, people need to be reminded that they have the right to feel okay. Nobody needs to just deal with it.

It's not normal, and sexual harassment certainly does not come with the job.