I'd just started working the night shift at my local department store. I'd never worked nights before and I was still in my first week, my body struggling to adjust to being awake at night. It was hardly an exciting job; I spent most of my time in the warehouse sorting out the delivery and moving boxes around and, being a job that required some physical strength, most of the time I was the only woman there.
There were about seven other colleagues with me on this particular night, including my shift manager - all men, as usual. I was listening to music with my earphones in while I worked, breaking down the night's delivery onto different shelves. I didn't mind working on my own as I'd always liked the quiet and wasn't much one for conversation.
As I lifted up the next box I felt a hand on my shoulder, making me jump. I turned around and my manager raised his hands apologetically as I pulled out my earphones.
"Sorry," he said, "Although I have warned you about listening to music - I need to be able to talk to you when you're working."
"Oh, my fault." I apologised, wrapping up the earphones and putting my mp3 player in my pocket.
"We need to have a chat." he continued, "can you follow me please?"
I abandoned the delivery and followed him to his office across the other side of the warehouse, through the maze of towering shelves. The building was old and it really showed; any modern building would have a logical system of straight rows of shelving that would be easy to navigate but this place seemed to have evolved over a long period of time, with bits being added on here and there. The shelves were so high that you needed a ladder to get to the top and it made for a very dark and dingy place to work in.
We reached his office and he held the door open for me to enter. He sat on the edge of his desk while I stood there feeling slightly self-conscious. I've never really felt comfortable in myself and never enjoyed being in the limelight. I'm not sure why as I'm used to people telling me I'm pretty and have had to deal with my fair share of male attention but for some reason, around other people I often felt shy and awkward.
"Don't worry, you're not in trouble or anything." he said, giving me a reassuring smile, "I just wanted to have a chat with you about something. Now, this might be a bit of a sensitive topic, but I've had a few comments from some of the men about your - er - uniform standards."
I looked down at what I was wearing, puzzled. "Is there a problem with what I'm wearing?" I asked. I had on a pair of denim shorts and a snug-fitting t-shirt, and I wore converse as I wanted to be comfortable. I needed to wear clothes that I could work easily and keep cool in as it was such a physically demanding job.
"Look, I don't personally have a problem with your clothes, no," he replied, "but I'm worried about the effect you're having on some of the guys."
I felt my cheeks grow red with embarrassment. "I'm having an effect on them?" I asked, feeling very stupid.
"Look, you must know you're a good-looking girl. Hell, if I wasn't married- well, that's not the point. What I'm trying to say is, you're distracting the other workers and I need you to come in dressed a little more appropriately next time."
My embarrassment was slowly being replaced by anger at his comment but I was still too mortified to argue with him. He saw I was struggling to find a reply; "Don't worry about it tonight, but tomorrow just cover up a bit more, ok?" he finished. I crossed my arms over my chest as the self-conscious side of me took over and he stood up and opened the door.
