Day 17
Happy St. Patrick's Day!
The story you are about to read is...partially true. The names were changed for some idea not totally clear to the author, but possibly having something to do with laws against defamation. Seriously, the words spoken by Sandra are nearly verbatim transcripts of what happened when your intrepid author decided to finally report on inappropriate sexual behavior in the work environment. This is not my story; it did not end this way. My ending left scars that took years to heal. The details did not occur exactly as recorded; this is a fictional piece, right? It is a composite piece, made up of the bits and pieces of a lifetime, and of many lifetimes, not just mine, but other women who suffer in silence, or suffer loudly, and find that they are dismissed with as much cavalier disregard as I experienced.
FLATTERY WILL GET YOU NOWHERE
Regina could hear his voice boom across the office. His laugh pierced walls and shattered her ear drums. Or was that just her imagination? She turned off the light in her office, hoping he would think she wasn’t there and pass by.
The other, quieter voice informed her he wasn’t alone. Good. He surely wouldn’t come in and pester her when someone else was with him, someone who could be a witness to his bad behavior. The voices neared her office, one booming out in a jovial, friendly tone, the other more muted. She tried to figure out who the companion was, in case it came in handy later.
“Hey, here it is, just like I told you. In this office lies paradise…I think I’ll go and check out the juicy fruit hanging on the bushes in there.”
Regina paled as Al’s voice boomed through the wall, humiliating her in front of some unknown other. She cringed as she imagined his hands creeping up her dress, trying to get a feel of what he termed “forbidden fruit”. She had asked not to be seated next to him anymore at corporate meetings, but it was no use. The seating chart was determined by the structure of the hierarchy, and the higher ups had decreed who would sit where by job title. She had put all her dresses in the back of the closet, and started wearing pants, so at least he couldn’t find much except cloth for his searching fingers.
“This is it, the entrance to the garden of delights.”
Al reached the open door of her office just as she dived underneath the desk. She sensed that her begonia plant was quavering from the rush of air as she plunged, and held her breath, worried it would give her away. Al poked his head in the door and looked around the office. She could see his shoes from her position under the desk, but he couldn’t see her without coming behind the desk. She heard him rustle the papers on her desk, snooping again like he did every time he stopped by, but he didn’t stoop to see if she was under the desk. It apparently never occurred to him that she might hide when he dropped by.
“Looks like Eve has stepped out for a little trip to the ladies beauty station”, Al boomed to his companion. All she heard was an answering murmur as the two moved down the hall to whatever destination was their next stop.
Regina started to come out from under the desk, but dived again when she heard a step just outside her office. Someone entered the office, but she couldn’t tell who it was. She had her eyes closed, wishing them away so she could get back to her spot and do her work. These frequent episodes of harassment made it difficult to keep her production numbers up to the expected level.
“Regina, where are you? I know you’re in here, I saw you come in just a few minutes ago.”
Sandra’s voice rang through her office, at once comforting and dreadful. Sandra would not attempt to take any liberties with her, but it might be difficult to explain why she was not working.
“Get out of there. What are you doing under the desk again? Really, Regina, this is getting to be too much of a habit.”
Regina crawled out from underneath the desk, and settled in her chair. Sandra settled into the client’s chair across from her, and crossed her arms, waiting for an explanation.
“Well?”
“I’m really sorry. I can explain.”
“Explain then.”
Regina told Sandra how she hid under her desk to hide from Al, because he was always pawing her, and had cornered her and kissed her last week. Sandra frowned.
“Really, Regina, I don’t know what your problem is. Al is a nice guy. So what if he’s a bit handsy? Get used to it. You’ll never manage to succeed in business if you insist on taking offense at every man who grabs you.”
“But…don’t I have the right to work my job unmolested?”
Sandra frowned. “Molested? I hardly think you were molested. Okay, so he makes crude jokes about your body. He kisses you. He puts his hand on your knee…”
“Not on my knee…he ran his hand up under my skirt and tried to get inside my underwear! Besides, even if it was just my knee, why should I have to deal with that? He doesn’t put his hand on Frank’s knee or Joe’s knee or Buddy’s knee.”
“I think this time I’m going to have to write you up. You can’t get your work done when you are under the desk. Having hysterics when some man pays you the compliment of being interested in you is not an excuse for failing to meet your quota. And you didn’t meet your quota this week, did you?”
Regina shook her head. She had not made her quota because Al had cornered her in the supply room and prevented her from leaving. She had not made her quota because Al had grabbed her hand at the copier and rubbed up against her, and had held on to her to prevent her from returning to her office. She hadn’t made her quota because Al had blocked the entrance from the garage trying to get her to say she’d go out with him, and had only let her enter the building when the garage security guard strolled by on his rounds. It was difficult to meet quota when you had to keep dodging grabbing hands and penises rubbing against your buttocks.
“I…I…I think I’d like to file a complaint.” Regina stammered the words, and wished she could grab them back once they were out.
“A complaint? Against Al? Honestly, you should be flattered. He just likes you, that’s all. It’s not like he’s hurting anything, flinging you down the stairs, pulling a gun on you, and sticking a knife in your ribs. He hasn’t torn off your clothes, has he?”
Regina shook her head. No weapons, no force, just constant demands for her attention, accompanied by attempts to take whatever he wanted.
“Besides, he’s not your supervisor, he’s your colleague. He has no power to hire and fire anyone, so how could it be sexual harassment?” Sandra stood, signaling that she was done talking. She had no more time to waste on the silly notions of a young woman who had been raised to believe that her body was her own, only to find that the men she worked with had other ideas. “It’s just your word against his. What proof do you have?”
Regina flushed with embarrassment. She hadn’t expected to be dismissed so lightly, especially by another woman. Sandra had all but admitted that she had experienced the same sort of treatment at some point in her career; why didn’t she understand? Why this insistence that it was something normal? Sandra whirled out of the office, her job done, other duties demanding her time.
The hallway was quiet, a normal state of affairs in her corner of the building, but it seemed strange suddenly. Al had gone, his booming voice somewhere else, welcoming a client, telling a friendly story, or commenting on some other woman’s “tushy”. Regina forced her mind toward the other voice, the quiet companion. If she could just figure out who that was, perhaps she would have the evidence she needed to file a formal complaint. Maybe Al had pushed things too far this time, trying to show off his prowess with women, and had provided her with a friendly ally.
Ally knocked and entered, reminding her it was time for lunch and they were supposed to meet in the cafeteria. She grabbed her purse and joined her friend, explaining why she had forgotten her promise.
“Honestly, Reg, I don’t know why you get so bothered. I mean, seriously, yes, it’s annoying, but it’s the price we have to pay for being in a man’s world. I mean, hey, we’re in the workplace, right? We’ve got good, professional jobs, a good salary, what should we complain about? Just quit letting him get under your skin.”
“Has he ever hit on you?” Regina looked closely at her friend, a woman attractive enough to turn every head in the cafeteria.
“Of course, silly. I just…treat it like a joke. It bothered me at first, but, well, you just get used to it, that’s all. He doesn’t mean anything by it, he’s just, you know, being a guy.” Ally turned away and started filling her salad plate, her signal that the conversation had ended, and it was time to move on to something more pleasant. “Did you see that crazy memo? You don’t think they really expect us to do that, do you?”
Regina leaned over to add chopped egg to her salad, and felt a hand between her legs. She knew who it was even before she heard the voice boom through the cafeteria.
“Hey, guys, look what I’ve got here! They’re really putting some great stuff on the salad bar these days!”
Regina didn’t speak or stand. She reached down and grabbed the hand that was sliding between her legs. She held on as tight as possible, then she lifted her leg behind her just until she could feel where her tormenter was located. She lowered her foot as he struggled to free his hand, then raised it once more, hard, to the spot that she had identified as his groin. She released his hand as he fell moaning to the floor, clutching his crotch.
“We’d better get out of here.” Ally grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the cafeteria while everyone else rushed to the aid of the moaning man. They flew upstairs to Ally’s office, their lunch forgotten. Sirens rushed by outside, testimony to how seriously the office was taking the “salad bar incident” as it would come to be known in later years.
Regina was mute as she was escorted from the building, her things tossed into a box without ceremony or care. As she was led by armed guards through the building, seventeen women crept toward her, gave her a secret thumbs up, then crept back to their own desks to continue their work, knowing that at least one woman had the courage to stand up to her attacker. Maybe she had made a difference after all. Perhaps one day, no one in the office would regard such behavior as just part of the job.