The Harvey Weinstein I felt threatened by was when I was an intern in the field I'm in now. It was a consulting company, and I'd taken over a writing project from another woman and was expected to go meet with the client by myself. The client quickly made it clear that he expected more than writing and kept asking me out to dinner and would try to tie reaching project milestones (which I would get into trouble for not reaching) to things like going out after work or to his lake cabin for the weekend. ("How about I review this over drinks? I don't think I'd have time, otherwise," and stuff like that.)
I was barely into my 20s and had no idea what to do. I was afraid he was going to stall the project until I got let go from my internship (which would have affected my ability to graduate). My mother told me to go buy a fake engagement ring, happily announce my engagement during a meeting, and start
talking nonstop about my "fiance," which I did. Any time he'd ask me to dinner, I'd get out my pocket planner and say, "Oh... I don't know if Jason can make it tonight. But we're free on Tuesday." When he'd suggest the lake house, I'd say, "That would be lovely. Jason loves to fish." Eventually, he quit asking me out, but he also resorted to some petty stuff, like refusing work I'd done or arbitrarily changing things to mess up my schedule. I ended up telling my mentor about it (the woman who'd handed off the project to me). She started going with me to the meetings. She was a very strong, no-nonsense sort of woman, and his little games stopped after that.
In my 30s, at the company I work with now (where these guys are no longer employed), I had trouble with a couple of others. None of them had any authority over me, and I was old enough that I felt more irritated by it than frightened. One was a married man who kept saying suggestive things and emailing me creepy commentary about my appearance. I'd respond by asking after his family. He quit after a few times. Another was a shoulder rubber (during meetings!), and one day, I loudly suggested that "Carl" was having neck problems that morning and perhaps he should get the shoulder rub instead. That embarrassed him out of doing it anymore.
I "handled" my problems as well as I was able, but I still feel very resentful that I felt like I had to be crafty and diplomatic about it. I couldn't just say, "fuck off"; I had to politely dissuade them without causing a fuss because "that's what women do." (I need a vomiting emoji.)