Many years ago, I used my sterling qualifications as a typist to get a job in a large provincial bureaucracy in the social-work field. I joined a team of around 30 in the clerical division, all of whom were women except for me.
What that experience taught me was how casually and universally sexual harassment can occur in such a gender-unbalanced situation.
Even though it was the 1980s, and the term had been coined a decade earlier, sexual harassment wasn't really on people's radar - and certainly not in the gender reversal of its most common form.
But I was astonished how regularly co-workers made what would today be considered instantly actionable sexual remarks and gestures.
Though often embarrassed, I shrugged it off, trying to be a good sport. When I called them on it, however, they laughed.
Even when a couple of them groped me theatrically in the course of a wine-sodden "team-building" day, it was just a big joke for them.
That's partly why I'm so sympathetic to the current wave of female RCMP officers striking back at what many describe as a widespread culture of harassment in the force.
The most visible is Cpl. Catherine Galliford, a longtime spokeswoman for the RCMP in B.C., who went public with her allegations last November.
Among her litany of charges was this, with which I can identify: "Everything that came out of his [a supervisor's] mouth was sexual. If I had a dime for every time one of my bosses asked me to sit on his knee, I'd be on a yacht in the Bahamas right now."
Unsatisfied by the official response to her 115-page internal complaint, Galliford filed a lawsuit.
Last month, the RCMP's statement of defence spoke volumes about how they plan to deal with it.
It issued a sweeping denial to all charges, while accusing Galliford of alcohol problems and a failure to use internal mechanisms to resolve her problems.
Yeah, right. So what about the more than 200 other female RCMP officers who are seeking certification for a class-action suit of their own with respect to harassment? Are they all making it up, too?
Of course, one of the reasons officers are reluctant to complain internally is the perception that it could be a career-killer.
And whether that's true or not, contrast it with the lax forms of punishment meted out to proven RCMP harassers like former Edmonton cop Don Ray.
Along with hosting drinking parties in his office, it was determined that Ray frequently propositioned subordinates for sex (including exposing his genitals) and offered to bend the rules to hire attractive female employees.
Though clearly unfit for police service, all Ray got for punishment was a 10-day dock of pay, a demotion of rank and a transfer to, of all places, B.C.
That said, I feel for the man charged with cleaning up this mess, RCMP Commissioner Bob Paulson, who happened to assume that role at the very moment Galliford et al stepped forward. As he wrote in a candid open letter this spring: "I am trying to run a modern police force with a discipline system that was current 25 years ago."
Paulson appears credible when he says that his long-term goal is to have a 50-50 gender balance in the RCMP, a far cry from where the level of female participation has been stalled for some time - around 20 per cent.
But Paulson is fighting an uphill battle. Just last week, it was revealed in an email from a 91原创 officer to Paulson that a lot of his colleagues are unhappy with being lumped in with the "bad apples" to which Paulson often refers.
He also cited a lack of trust in senior members who are supposed to make the changes.
On the other hand, women officers have told Paulson not to do them any favours. To be seen as token appointments would only confound their legitimate career ambitions.
Nevertheless, gender-balanced policing is way overdue in every 91原创 force.
Kevin Brooker is a columnist for the Calgary Herald.
