Leaving university I found it difficult to get a job with the degree I had, in need of income mainly to ease my mounting debt I took a job as an office junior working for a large local construction company. The offices themselves were just a series of portacabins and were always located at the company's current site; which at this time was the building of a new supermarket. The main offices were located towards the back of the site consisting of three linked cabins, while the MDs office and the reception cabins were located towards the front. Whenever something had to be taken or received from either of these cabins it was my job, being the lowest ranking employee at the time, to go to the opposite side of the site as an errand boy.
For a large company it ran its offices with predominantly male staff, which some would say was against equal opportunities, I just thought it was unfair that there were no office girls around to ogle. The only female on site was the receptionist who doubled as our MDs secretary, a late forty year old with dark greying hair, Hillary.
As I was frequently visiting or calling her office I had gotten to know Hillary quite well and I found her to have quite a risqué sense of humour with the ability to flirt well. It must have been her twenty years' experience in construction working constantly alongside, builders, plumbers and sparkys that corrupted her mind so.
It was after I had been with the company for six months that I was given an important project to do by the director who noticed that I was wasted as a simple go getter. Although, despite him selling it as an important challenging task, I found that most of the work involved locating documents and photocopying them. To add to the "challenge" the copier in my office had packed up and so I had to use the one in reception, which meant picking my way around a building site on a daily basis back and forth carrying folders.
I was really pissed off on this particular day as I had received a visit from an ex demanding items from my flat, things turned nasty and she destroyed some of my clothes and possessions. So I was wearing an old ill-fitting unfashionable shirt and a pair of old trousers to work that day, I also had no underwear on; my ex had got at all the clean ones, what can you do when the bitch is armed with scissors. The trousers were far too tight, and were dangerously restrictive around the crotch area, if only I'd had gone to the gym more often I thought to myself through the chafing. Walking through the site I was greeted with catcalls and hollers from the workmen, poking fun at me because of the tightness of my pants and the way I was struggling to walk drawing attention to myself, I must have looked like an overweight Italian Romeo.
