This is a true story about consenting adults.
A few years ago I was working for a large telecom's manufacturer in Melbourne, Australia. I worked an afternoon shift from 4pm until 12pm as a radio test technician and occupied a desk on the factory floor that was essentially surrounded on 3 sides by equipment. A small 5 foot partition with a one drawer filing cabinet behind me made a seat for any visitors, so when they sat down behind me I could swivel around and talk to them at eye-level in a mostly private enclosure. After 7pm the factory was dimly lit and most of us worked in our own areas with little contact outside of breaks.
At 10pm one Tuesday, I was testing some cellular equipment and I realized that someone had quietly sat down on the filing cabinet behind me. I got a little whiff of perfume so I knew it was likely to be one of the women from the factory floor, which was a bit unusual. I was intending to finish the test I was just working on but then I heard a little whimper and a sniff.
I spun around to find one of the Australian women sitting there, she had clearly been crying and was obviously in pain. Her name was Emma - I didn't know her especially well but she was always friendly to me - she was late 30s and had recently had a baby. The father of her baby had left shortly after the birth and Emma had returned to work on the afternoon shift leaving the baby at home with her mother. Emma was slim with shoulder length dark hair and an infectious smile - I liked her a lot but it was just a casual work friendship.
But here was Emma looking at me with tears in her eyes. I reached out to take both of her hands in mine, and as gently as I could I asked what was wrong. She burst into tears in front of me and looked away as she composed herself again. I didn't know what the hell was going on, so I just waited for her to catch her breath.
Emma whispered to me "Ryan, I can't feed my baby". I looked at her, waiting for more information.
"I can't feed my baby" she repeated, and letting go, she placed her hands under her breasts for emphasis.
This conversation was already so far off our normal workplace chat that the expression on my face must have been priceless. Emma took a more direct approach.
"Ryan - I'm making so much milk for my baby, but I can't feed her while I'm here. My breasts are so painful that I can't do my work. I'm leaking, I can't concentrate and I'm worried I will lose my job because of it".
Suddenly it became clear why she was so upset. Emma was in pain, worried about not making her numbers for the assembly quota, and undoubtedly missing her baby as well. All up - a perfect storm. No wonder she was crying in front of me. She had slipped away to confide in someone she trusted, who was outside of her immediate circle of friends.
Being an engineer and a man, the natural instinct is always to try and fix problems. But I've also been around long enough to know that women quite often don't want you to "fix" things, rather it's a case of just listening and sympathizing as best as possible, and so that's what I intended to do.
But then she burst into tears again. I couldn't stand seeing her cry so I began asking some of the obvious questions, starting with breast-pumps.
"I tried a pump but it just won't seal consistently" she said. "It just ended up leaking so much air that it was a complete waste of time and made me feel like a total failure. And it cost so much money, I can't afford to try a different model."
The few suggestions I had, Emma had already tried unsuccessfully. She started to talk about giving up work as the only option, but I knew money was tight for her since the baby's father had left. But there was one thing she hadn't thought of, and finally I decided to broach it.
I gave her a cheeky smile and said "You can't afford to stop working, you can't pump milk and you can't bring your baby to work. So how about if someone else was to take your milk?".
Her head snapped up as she realized what I had suggested, and for a moment I thought I was in serious trouble. But then I saw her face soften slightly as she thought more about the idea.
"I just want the pain to go away, would you really do that for me?"