How to Deal with Bullies in the Workforce -Part 2

For the most part, my way of dealing with workplace bullies was to do basically nothing. Silence, indeed, was my most worst enemy but I was not exactly sleeping, too. Secretly, I was writing down things on small pieces of paper, things that my then supervisor and manager was doing to make my life miserable.
For the most part, these damaging things were observable: other employees were getting better desks and treatment and my requests to deal with workplace issues were laughed at and ignored.
My dog days took the form of going to work with a huge cloud over my shoulder. Even despite clearly unprofessional treatment at the hands of Hitler's relatives (I imagined), I took it all in, never wanted to throw in the towel over what I deemed were a normal part of one's working world.
In fact, for years I went through one bad boss after another, mostly women managers who saw fit to treat my life as though I were a paid slave, only there to make their lives better. All these wierd, unstable bosses were, for the most part, large, younger and clearly competent employees. But even if there were more unattractive than I was, why did they seem to take it out on myself, I wondered? Why did they continue to ask me my age during social occasions, when it didn't really matter, dither, if I was more older, more attractive than she?
All these age-related questions are, in fact, a form of abuse that younger women often use to make themselves feel better than others. Who really cares if they are just celebrating their 21th birthday in Las Vegas? Are they going to be twenty-one for the rest of their lives?
Interestingly enough, I recall that my days of workplace abuse was mostly spent in underpaid, high stressful jobs dominated by young, immature, barely educated young women. Add that, nonunion jobs.
When that day came when the abuser decided to fire me, it came as somewhat of a surprise. Other fired employees walked out silently, but this I could take no more. I howled out at my abusers, cursed them with the word, "lawsuit," and slammed the door quite loudly as I exited the cold and sterile-looking call-centre floor.
A few months later, I did just that. I retained a pro-bono lawyer and settled with myself receiving both extra money and a reference letter. I was saved by the law.