"Your skirt is much too long for office work."
I was raised to treat adults with respect, but this just pissed me off.
"What the hell does the length of my skirt have to do with office work?"
"It might get caught in the doorway or the filing cabinet. Stuff like that."
"Oh, why don't you just tell me the truth about why you want me in a short skirt!"
He sighed.
"Marilyn, these men work very hard at a very boring job. Getting to look at your legs every day is just a little ray of sunshine in their lives. You're a very attractive girl, Marilyn, I'm sure you know that. In a dress like that, you might as well be wearing pants."
"So basically I'm just a pair of legs to them! That's all I am."
"Marilyn, I don't think that about you. I think you're very interesting and very intelligent, and I don't mean just for a teenager. I find you very interesting to talk to."
"You do?"
"Certainly. Look, you wear whatever dress you want. Really. Even wear pants if you want. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that to you."
"Well, actually, my sister picks out which dress I wear every day. I have to wear a lot of hand-me-downs. She's a few years older."
"Yes, I thought you dressed very grown-up for a teenager."
"Thank you! Maybe you should take over the job of deciding what I wear every day. You seem to be obsessed with what I wear."
"Like I said, wear what you want."
I asked for Suzanne's number, so I could talk to her about some things. That evening, as soon as I could get some privacy, I called her up.
"Hello?"
"Hello, is this Suzanne? Could I talk to you? I don't want to disturb you, if you're in the middle of something."
"Who is this?"
"My name is Marilyn. I'm taking over for you, for the week."
"You sound like just a kid."
"I'm seventeen, but I'm fully trained."
"What can I do for you? Finding everything OK?"
"I just wanted to ask you about the guys in the office."
"Uh-oh. What've they done?"
"I wanted to find out if they stare at you the way they stare at me."
She laughed.
"Don't tell me. Your legs. Does it make you feel uncomfortable?"
"Well, I'm just not used to it, is all. Do they stare at your legs?"
"Not as much as they used to. But my legs aren't what they used to be. If they still stare at me they must be going crazy over you, if you're as young as you sound."
"I was told today, in no uncertain terms, that my skirt was too long."
"Yeah, I've gotten that speech. So tell me, do you like it? The staring?"
"Do you?"
"I'll admit it if you do."
"OK. Fine. I like it. I know I should feel insulted, but I like it."
"Oh, don't let anyone else tell you what to feel. It's not like they're a bunch of louts playing grab-ass all day. They're sweet guys."
"They are, aren't they?"
"So what if they stare? They can't help themselves, poor dears. You're only there for a week. Give 'em what they want. Is that what you wanted to ask me?"
"More or less."
"Just wanted permission to feel the way most women feel but know we're not supposed to, eh?"
"I guess."
"Well, if there's nothing else---"
"Well, just one thing. How'd you feel when Mr. Bellam said your skirt was too long? What'd you do?"
"Oh, I got mad and told him he was treating me like a piece of meat, and he said he didn't see me that way and thought I was very intelligent, and then he got terribly contrite and told me I could wear whatever I wanted. And I went home and moved all my longer dresses to the back of the closet and wore short skirts to work after that. So the men got what they wanted. And I'm guessing that's exactly what you're going to do. Am I right?"
"Yes. Probably. We're just pushovers, aren't we? The men smile at us and leer at our legs and we do whatever they want."
"Yeah, but don't let them know that. Good-bye, Marilyn. Good luck."
I said good-bye and hung up.
The next day I waited to see which dress Gloria was going to choose for me. I wasn't going to interfere. She chose an astonishingly beautiful silk dress in vibrant colors, which I was meant to wear with a belt. It wasn't extremely short, but short enough. I knew the guys would be back to staring at my legs.
Mr. Bellam called me in for some dictation. I waited for him to make some more crass comments about my legs, but he didn't mention them. So when I got up and pushed the chair back into the corner, I said, "Well, George, I hope my pretty dress meets all the proper criteria for shortness."