Woman in a Man's World

1. Only Woman in the Room

The cold of the metal chair caught the underside of her thighs not protected by the black suit skirt she hadn't worn since high school debate team. She'd been in the unemployment line for hours outside a warehouse in the middle of God knows where. Dazed by the heat of the sun which had finally gone, she hadn't even thought to look at who the last employer was. She was just glad for a chair, came this close to kicking off her heels. Thankfully her dress blouse was white so the sweet that had been there earlier in the data didn't show up, but she didn't like to think about it. She was finally here in heaven, moments away from an interview she desperately needed in an all but destroyed economy. Heaven smelled like concrete and gasoline, like the smell of the hardware store her father would take her to. She breathed it in. Just like she used to and he told her to stop acting like an addict. It also smelled on sweaty men, leather boots, and hydraulic grease. A singular fluorescent lamp lit up a collapsible table surrounded by a small gathering of metal chairs, like minions waiting to be called on by their master.

Suddenly a sense, a feeling that every girl knows overpowered the gasoline atmosphere. As her blurry eyes cleared from the exhaustion of the day and regained some of their focus, she realized that all eyes were on her. Even the foreman looked surprised. Fuck. She thought. I'm the only girl in the room, aren't I. It probably didn't help that what used to be a cute business outfit that had turned into something a desperate secretary might by half wearing as she fell out of her bosses office with frazzled hair, shutting the door and tripping, trying to put her shoes on before the cleaning lady showed up.

Yep, definitely the only girl here. She scanned the room. A dozen working men with calloused hands, beards, flannels with dried paint and mud filled the chairs. The hungry looks weren't subtle. She picked up the company's pamphlet she had sat on and opened it extra wide as if somehow it would shield her from their looks.

"Drake & Sons Heavy Machinery", she read on the cover of the pamphlet. Fuck.

The scent was different now; hydraulic grease, burnt metal, sweaty men in flannels, and leather work boots, adjusting themselves in their man spreads, was all she could smell now.

Yep, definitely screwed.

She wanted to shrink in her chair, but her pride wouldn't let her and she reminded herself that her bank account was doing enough shrinking on its own. "Next!", yelled the foreman. Thank God, something to break the tension. She thought, as the man closest to the table rose to attention, rolled up his sleeves to shake the foreman's hand. Although she was thoroughly disgusted by everyone in the room, she found herself strangely enjoying watching the ripples in his forearms as he shook foreman's hand.

She looked down at her own hands, soft and feminine. She gripped her first in a suppressed rage at the thought of weakness. She twisted her wrist hoping she would find muscular ripples of her own and get ripped before the interview. With a renewed courage in her workout routined, she shot a dead cold look that said "don't fuck with me" at anyone that was stilling looking and managed to back a few of them down.

"Firm handshake, son. Now, why don't you have a seat and tell me about your experience." Fuck, I have no experience and even less forearms. She thought. As she watched the man take a seat as if she could absorb from him what it would take to land a job. She looked down at her resume. No one else had a resume. They seemed to be their own resume with their beard and calloused hands as if the interview required them to crush a walnut with their fingers. Babysitting, she read, some college, and some other work she hadn't put down because she didn't know if it counted. How is it that men can show up to a job, stinking, unshaven, with holes in their pants, no resume, and still make eighteen bucks an hour when...

"Next!", yelled the foreman.

She looked to her left, but there was no one. Fuck, I'm up. She stood straight up in a jolt. The chair, clinging to her sticky legs a bit fell back to the ground. Snickers and laughs came at her from all around the room. "I've got a job for you sweetheart", she heard someone say under their breath but decided not to pay it attention. "Goodluck", said the man with the forearms as he brushed past her with a smile that for the first time tonight, didn't disgust her. She turned her head, to see where he was going, but he didn't turn back.

"Well isn't this a surprise", said the foreman, shaking her hand verbalizing his shock at her femininity in such a place. "Blame that on the economy, sir", she responded.

"Well let me see what we have here for you, miss....", he looked up, wanting her name in response. "Green, Lena Green"

"I'll say she's green", came another snide comment from the back.

"Ignore them, miss Green", said the foreman in defense.

"Oh I do, trust me."

"Lets, see here. We have a few openings here, office assistant, secretary, janitorial staff - Oh! That position is at headquarters!", said the foreman.

"I see. And what are some of the responsibilities?", asked Lena

"Oh, they're not too hard, someone with your talents I'm sure could handle them. Mostly running errands, answering phones, fetching coffee, taking notes, sometimes staying late at the office when the boss is having a hard week."

"I see. And may I ask how you know my talents? I just noticed you interviewed the men, but just assumed I was quite the master of coffee fetching, answering phones, and cleaning bathrooms at headquarters.", said Lena.

"Oh shiitt", said someone reeling in their seat in the back. "She bites!". The comment was received with a few more laughs and growling sounds from the rest in the room.

The foreman removed his glasses and shot a glance over her shoulder to silence them.

"I bet the pay is great though.", said Lena, hoping to mend some of his damaged ego.

"Yes, $9.50, and then $11 if you stay 6 months!", replied the foreman.

"I see.", she said unimpressed.

Her gaze drifted to a drill, some bits, screws, and some split blocks of wood that lay on the table. Staring at them for a moment, then back at the foreman, she lunged forward in her chair. Grabbing the drill and switching it to reverse with her thumb, she gripped the spindle she squeezed the trigger, loosening the bit vice as the Phillips bit dropped to the table. Taking a 1⁄8 inch drill bit off the table, she secured it in the drill and bore a perfectly clean hole through one block of wood with another backing it to protect the table. Dropping the drill bit with the speed of a pit stop mechanic, she reinserted the Phillips bit, switched directions with her index finger, and cinched it down. Taking a wood screw she put it through the hole she bore and screwed one block onto the other without splitting it.

She placed the drill back on the table. The room had fallen silent with more than a few dropped jaws and shock in her sudden explosion of bit changing, grinding drill motors and precision carpentry. She sat back in her chair as if nothing had happened and put her hands on her lap. "The wood won't split if you drill a pilot hole. What else you got for me?"

"Ooohhhhhh daaayuumm", came a unanimous cheer from all the other candidates in the room, like men in a sports bar when the game's good. "She screws good too!"

Lena cocked her head with a cheeky smile as she let it sink in.

"I told you, that's how you should have done it, you idiot", said one man to another as he punched him on the shoulder.

The foreman adjusted his glasses and scratched his head, not knowing quite what to say to that.

"What's your best offer?", asked Lena.

"Well,", he said, peering down at the paper, "we have a backhoe driver that pays $16 bucks an hour-"

"No, your best offer.", interrupted Lena, as the foreman suddenly became the subject of the interview.

"Senior heavy rigging specialist.", he replied instantly, sitting up straight, "ties big things to cranes and hopes they don't fall - $80,000 a year, not including benefits and hazard pay."

"I'll take it."