I was a co-op student in university.
(Bear in mind here that I went back to university in my late 30s, so I was pushing 40 by this time.)

I worked for a major corporation at their plant where they blended polymers and made carpet yarn. (The corporation is internationally known for making a wide variety of products, in particular thermostats. You probably have one in your home- the company name begins with H and is in bright red letters, and they are not as sweet sounding as their name.)

I worked in one of the testing labs where they took molded samples and tested them for strength, flammability and all that shit. As a co-op student I was the guy who got to do all the really odd tasks that no one else wanted, of course- and the women in the lab especially enjoyed doing this to a man in his thirties. Especially as they were about twenty years older than me, and were all divorced. (I suspect that I featured in more than one old lady's wet dream. *shudder*)

As I'm not a small man, if there was something that required some physical strength, they usually called on me to do things like open particularly stubborn bottles of hydrochloric acid and the like. We had the usual latex gloves to wear when handling chemicals, of course.

One afternoon one of them asked me to open a chemical jug for her, so I pulled on the gloves- and had a really gross flash through my mind of having a prostate exam. Dot saw my expression change to disgust followed by amusement. "What's wrong?"

I leered at her and suggestively wriggled my fingers and barked, "Bend ovah!"

She was still a bit red when I put the opened bottle on the counter and peeled off the gloves.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Sat 12 May 2007, 16:37, Reply)