“Your job is to sand down those plaster vaginas” the gaunt middle aged man snapped at me, flicking his wrists towards the pile of cast genitals on the work surface. I remember blushing and sweating and wondering what I had done to deserve the nasty tone with which he ordered me around. “Of course I’d never let you take the casts, none of the customers would want you pouring gunge all over their genitals, that’s my job,” he scoffed.