Among Women
With our firstborn came unemployment: our factory had closed. Now I found myself in a world of women as I agreed to accept any job that came my way through the temporary agencies that I had signed with.
Yesterday I had sat amidst a theme of pink as I answered phones for a hair salon whose peppy, young receptionist had called in as sick. The day before I had sold perfume from behind a counter filled with make-up. These jobs were not necessarily designated for women, but the majority of employees I worked with were definitely not men.
Today I started in a medical transcription office. My wife had gotten me this job through the connections she had at her employer. She was not yet decided as to whether she wanted to stay home or work part-time, so they could not replace her.
I was, in essence, filling one of the many voids that my wife had left when she'd gone onto maternity leave. This job was a promised, one-month position at considerably higher pay than I'd been getting since the layoff. So, I took it.
The first half of the month I answered phones and ran errands. When this proved simple enough, I was also given the task of cleaning and organizing slowed computers. Finally, when I'd only one week left to go, I arrived to carts stacked with files that needed to be returned to their places in cabinets and along the wall.
After four monotonous hours, I was released for lunch. As I leaned down for my briefcase, I perceived, with embarrassment and shock, that my pants had split along the back seam, exposing my intimate apparel.
The women in the office laughed heartily at my realization. Sheepishly, I asked how long my pants had been this way. The older of the two women cynically replied, "Don't pretend you didn't know of the tear. How could you not?" I felt my cheeks go red as indignation rose within me. Yet what could I say?
I decided to make light of the situation, "Only my wife was supposed to know that my socks matched," I said, raising my pant legs to reveal their color. Both women laughed, the elder with a gleam in her eyes. Triumphantly, she then left the room.
The younger woman, still my elder, looked over apologetically. "I wanted to tell you," she stated. "She said she'd have me fired if I did, and she has that power. I have kids to support." Her voice trailed off, steadily growing softer as she spoke.
"How long?" I asked.
"All morning," she admitted.
When I left to take my lunch, instead of eating the usual bagged, I retrieved this from the refrigerator and headed home. I related the story to my wife as I changed.
She knew immediately which woman I was speaking of and stated that I'd been a victim of sexual harassment. Although totally unaware of their transgressions, the men in that office were from a different era and considered to be disrespectful toward women. Apparently, this woman had resolved to return the favor to any unsuspecting underlings whose only fault was being male.
I didn't know what to say. I had a week left at this job, and it was this woman's word against mine: I knew who the younger woman would side with.
So, I returned to work as if nothing had happened and finished out my week. Needless to say, since I was not a doctor, I never worked for a medical transcription office, again.
Copyright by Dianne J. Beale; all rights reserved. This piece is fictional and not to be mistaken or perceived as real.