I want to live in a hands - free workplace. Do you? # Metoo -- from X, artist, photographer, publicist

I want to live in a hands - free workplace. Do you? # Metoo.

I started working when I was 16 years old. I had a full - time summer job at the Parking Violations Bureau. It was my first time working with adults, and I met approximately 600 of them a day. My job was to herd a group into a small auditorium, read them their rights (so to speak), and then usher them into small court rooms to have their case s heard. Each room took approximately ten people, and had a lawyer/judge, and a legal assistant of some kind.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

I started at 9:00, met up with a few other summer kids for lunch, and then carried on with work until 5:00. Everyone was older than me by at least five years. The other summer kids were all in college , and barely tolerated me . The staff that worked there all year, were close to retirement. I was the girl candy. No doubt about it.

My saving grace was calling my best friend, who was not working that summer, during my lunch hour. No cell phones then, but I was permitted to use the phone in the office at the end of the hall. No one bothered with me…much.

There was a red - haired office manager named Judy, and she always smiled at me. I guess she had to be nice to me, but she told me one day that she thought I must be lonely since I didn’t have anyone my own age to talk to, and that all the women hated me. HATED me? She burst out laughing when she saw my face. Only men like pretty girls, she explained. She advised me not to worry and that I’d get used to it.

I can’t explain how unsa fe I felt after that statement. I was growing up in a household full of women. Women were strong, and smart. I thought women would have my back. I was growing up in a time of women’s liberation. What the hell was this, anyway?

It never occurred to me to l eave, as it was a tough job to get in the first place. I was saving for a class trip, so I kept my head down, along with my spirits , and worked hard.

My calls to my best friend were kept me going , and my giggling through my lunch break drew the attention of a very tall lawyer . W alking down the hall , h e looked into the room and smiled. I probably looked guilty for drawing attention and managed a weak smile. He went on his way, and I quickly explained what happened to my girlfriend. I was about to hang up, when the lawyer walked into the room, closed the door behind him and sat across the desk from me. I was stunned.

He asked me my name and asked me who I was talking to. I told him I was speaking to a friend. This guy was so rude to interrupt the call, but I didn’t object as I thought I was about to be fired. He reached across the table and removed the phone from my hand, said . “Goodbye, Elizabeth’s friend”, and hung up on her.

I was frozen. No way out of the room, and no one would look for me for at least 20 minutes. Every nerve ending was jangling. Was I fired? Was this guy going to touch me?

He asked me some questions, told me I was pretty, but did I know I was beautiful? A sick feeling came over me. He reached across the desk and held my hand. I wanted to snatch my hand away, but hesitated. If I held that one hand, he’d have to stay seated, which was safer than him coming around the desk.

He wanted to take me to dinner. He wanted to grab a drink with me. He never let go of my hand and he never took h is eyes off my mouth, and my breasts. I realized I had some power as I had something he wanted. This would not be rape. Relaxing slightly, I stood, dropped his hand and said I was leaving.

He jumped up as if he was going to embrace me, but the door flew open and Judy was there, looking stern . She told the lawyer he had a call. He winked at me and left. I looked to Judy but all I saw was her back. I went back to work.

Uneasy, I returned to work the next day, trusting no one. I felt I should thank Judy for saving me, even at the risk of being fired. I sought her out during my lunch hour and asked for a few moments.

As I started to say thank you, she cut me off, and asked if I had wrapped him around my finger. She said I’d never make friends if I took on the most attractive lawyer there. Did I know he was married? That he had two kids? He was a fool for pretty girls, and I was warned that he and Judy were friends and that I shouldn’t hurt him.

I was stunned. That man trapped me in a room, begged a date, offer propositions of booze and sex to a 16 - year - old , and wouldn’t release my hand. He was married and was about to lunge at me, if not for her interruption. I had never been kissed in my life, but I was seen as the predator?

I heard myself saying that I wasn’t interested in dating him. I didn’t want to be trapped in a room with anyone either. She was watching me sharply, with suspicion. I had no idea what to do next. Dismissed, I went back to work.

He found me again the next day , but I kept walking right into Judy’s office. Somehow, I thought having a witness was going to save me. Maybe he wouldn’t pull anything and then Judy would see that I had no interest in any of this nonsense. She said hello to him and gave me an icy stare . He spoke before I did, asking her if we could use the Director’s office to talk. I was wild with fear and shocked by his audacity. Judy cooed that he could have the room anytime he wanted.

With his hand on my back, he brought me into the room, and closed the door. This was a large corner office, and I knew I had to keep my back to the door, so I could get out of there. He

asked me if I had thought about what he asked me the other day, because he hadn’t stopped thinking of me. He said he nearly got in a car crash because of me.

I told him I wasn’t going to “date” him, but thanks anyway. I started for the door and the v ery thing I had laughed at in cartoons happened. He went Pepe LePew on me. His arms were everywhere, he tried to kiss me, but I kept twisting away. I was getting upset and knew Judy was not going to save me this time. He was 6’4” and I was 5’3”. He was fas t, strong and motivated.

I shoved him, hard, and screamed, “Stop! You’re being Pepe LePew.”, which stunned him. I was never sure if it was my volume or the cartoon reference. I took the moment and ran out of the room. I went back to work and ran down the back - stair case at 5:00 , instead of taking the elevator. I ran to the bus stop and cried in the shower when I got home. Judy didn’t believe me. The other women were angry with me. I was scared and wondered if I would get away the next time. I was ashamed. I was a victim. I told no one.

The next day, he sought me out early and brought us cups of coffee. He asked me to come with him for a ride. He wanted to talk with me. I refused and told him if he wanted to say anything, he had to do it right there in the auditorium. We were alone in the room, but there were no doors to lock, and I was standing at the desk, feet firm. He sat and opened his coffee. He leaned over and handed me the coffee, which I refused.

He started to say he had handled me the wrong way and was sorry. He was crazy about me and wanted to spend time with me, just the two of us. He offered me a weekend trip to the Bahamas. I nearly laughed , but the “handled” crack had me livid. I asked him to tell me about his wife, and he said she wouldn’t be coming.

I told him that my Dad (a man to be feared by anyone with their wits about them) would not let me go. His suggestion was that I should say I was sleeping over a girlfriend’s house. Idiotic. So, I was to leave the country, lie to my Dad and com e back with a killer tan?

He offered the coffee again. I told him I never had coffee in my life and hated the smell. He said I’d get used to it once I was working full - time. He asked me how much school I had left and told him he’d pick me up after school anytime I wanted.

When I replied I’d be a junior in the fall, he told me he thought I was a senior already. He asked the name of my school, and when I replied, he did something I had only seen in the movies…a spit take.

Coffee flew all over his navy, de signer suit. He looked the way I had felt the day before , ashe n white, frightened and unsure of himself. I burst out laughing and felt like myself for the first time in days. I knew what this was, and he was on the ropes.

He stammered that he thought I w as in college. He asked how old I was, and when I told him 16, he started rocking in his seat, saying, “Oh, my god!” followed by, “Who did you tell?”. He was convinced that all teenagers tell everything to everyone. I was mortified. He was afraid of jail.

He looked despondent all day. I felt sorry for him. I didn’t understand why, but it was clear he was depressed. He took the stairs that night, but before he went down, he said he was deeply sorry if he upset me and asked if he could kiss my cheek. I said o kay, and it was the most tender moment of my 16 years. His eyes were filled with tears. I never saw him again.

I left the next week from that job. School was starting soon. Judy handed me my last paycheck and asked if I had enjoyed my summer. I thought s he was crazy but lived in fear that she’d be the person that’d be giving me a reference, so I just nodded. She told me that her friend was broken - hearted over me. She knew I would break his heart. I was, as I am today, utterly baffled by all her actions.

A woman thought I was out to steal this guy. Other women hated me for my youth and looks. A woman that knew I had been trapped against my will in a room with a 42 - year - old man, willingly let us into another locked room. I was attacked by a man that was a ll hands. Somehow, I broke his heart, led him down a path and dumped him.

There is an age where you learn to never trust those around you. I was 16 and never naïve again. I wish I could say it was the last time I had invasive interaction with male co - wor kers. You never forget your first.