Katherine Christensen
As I walk into work, I am met with warm greetings from my coworkers. The library seemed relatively slow: normal for a Tuesday night.
I look down at my legs. My skirt fits a bit tighter than the last time I had worn it, and it keeps riding up around my hips when I walk. I pull it down and continue walking towards the front desk.
I start my work on processing books when an older man, who I’d never seen before, walks in the library. As he approaches the front desk, he cheers, “Hey, young lady!”
“Hello,” I say back in my customer service voice.
“Can you help me send this fax?” he asks.
“Sure, I can help you with that,” I say as I walk over to the printer with his documents in hand. I put the papers into the machine, and he begins to explain to me something along the lines of receiving a Veteran’s discount for his mortgage.
I type in the fax number and send the papers through the feeder. As the machine dials, we stand there in silence as the machine tries to connect to the other line.
After an excruciating minute passes, a message pops up on the machine, “Line under communication… Waiting…”
“It looks like the line is busy. It will redial again soon. We can wait here until it does,” I say to the man.
“Oh, okay,” he says.
More standing in uncomfortable silence. I keep pressing buttons to make it look like I’m actively trying to solve the problem, even though the fax is completely out of my control now. I just keep hitting the “Job Status” button, so I can see if the fax is sending or not. Please send.
“So, what’s your name?” he asks.
“Katie.”
“Katie? That’s a really pretty name, Katie,” he says, an underlying flirtatious tone lingering in his voice.
“Thank you,” I say, starting to get more uncomfortable. Please send.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him looking me up and down.
As his eyes scan me from head to toe, I see his eyes stop on the way back up… directly on my butt. Suddenly, I am reminded of my skirt and its new fit on me. I shift my posture and cross one leg over the other, trying to hide my body as much as I can from him.
I look down at the machine. Once again, the dreaded message pops up, “Line under communication… Waiting…” I feel myself start to sweat, as if the man’s inappropriate gaze is sending heat waves towards me. Please send.
With a low grumble to his voice, he leans in and says, “I really like your outfit, Katie.”
“Umm… I’m gonna go get someone else to help me with this. The machine isn’t working,” I say as I walk away, my words probably incoherent as I stumble through them under my mask.
Just another night at the library.