How to Hit a Home Run!

The other day I started reminiscing about a few of my favorite work stories. Often, the best moments came from me and my big mouth asking the questions that no one else would ask.
There was the owner of the sports marketing agency that I worked for in the early 1990's who, at the end of every team meeting would encourage us all to get out there and do a great job by telling us to, "put our dicks on the plate and hit a home run." Since I was the only girl on the team, I wondered why Mr. S thought those words would motivate me to do anything besides pray for his imminent death.
I consulted another woman at the agency, asking her what she would do if she were me. She told me to do nothing, not to rock the boat. Balls to that, said I, and plotted the moment for my protest.
My moment came at our next team meeting. After carefully considering all of my smart ass options, I decided that innocently asking a question was the way to go. When the meeting was over and Mr. S gave us our usual dismissal line, I raised my hand, cleared my throat and said, "Mr. S?" Everyone turned my way to see what the girl had to say. "For those of us without a dick, could we put our tits on the plate instead," as I mimed holding up my breasts like a shelf, straight out in front of me. Mr. S turned bright red and managed a strangled, "uh, sure," before bolting from the room.

And guess what? He never closed our meeting with that little phrase again, although on the day I handed in my resignation, he did tell me not to let the fucking door hit me in the fucking ass. A gentleman until the end!