The philosophy prof was foul-mouthed, twice my age and expected his female TAs to solve his social problems. It had worked with my predecessor and it worked with my successor, so he wondered what was wrong with me. After fending him off for a whole term I then discovered that my next job was to work for a prof about three times my age. His Lady-Godiva party invitation I posted to my mother, just to show that I wasn’t making it up. She aptly called him a “corset salesman”. I had had enough and left the university.