Starbucks "Customer Service" = Calling the Cops

[Sundae]

Argh.
My great ally over the last six (can it be that long?) years is that whenever a male colleague has suggested I am suffering from PMS - and yes they have, albeit in jest, to my face - I've explained ad nauseum why I don't get PMS. I've talked them through the whole process of having a contraceptive implant, what it is, what it does and how it regulates the menstrual cycle. And then I've made them feel it in my arm.

To be fair, the men who've been close enough to me to "joke" about these things have taken it quite well. But I know they've thought twice about making those "jokes" to other women afterwards.

Sadly, in the process I found I can be quite scary to men.
Not now of course. Now I just never see them or talk to them.
But back when I had male colleagues and friends I realised after being an easy adolescent I was destined to a hard future as a crazy cat-woman. Getting the cats was a self-fulfilling prophecy.