Simmer Down

we’ll talk.” Uh-oh. I was in for one of Naomi’s “staff meetings,” which meant that the two of us would sit practically on top of each other and bare our souls.
    The phone rang. I hoped it was someone who’d need my help for the next hour. “Hello? Boston Organization Against Sexual and Other Harassment in the Workplace. How can I help you?” It had taken me months to get that greeting down pat. I’d suggested to Naomi that we simply call ourselves the BO, but, reasonably enough, she’d vehemently objected to the abbreviation. At least Naomi put up with my calling us the Organization. In return, the BO remained strictly my own unspoken name for our agency.
    “Good morning. Is Ms. Campbell in, please?” a male voice asked politely.
    “One moment, please, and I’ll connect you.” I always liked to give the impression we were a huge company and that I would have to transfer the call through a complicated phone system to track down the person being called.
    “Naomi, it’s for you,” I called into our only other room, the office where Naomi kept her desk. Hers, much to my annoyance, was actually a desk and not a folding cafeteria table. Maybe one day I would qualify for real furniture, too!
    “Oh, hi!” Had she just giggled? “One minute.” My supervisor had the nerve to shut the door between our two rooms. I knew it! She had a romance brewing! And with a man! Maybe I would use our staff meeting to investigate Naomi’s love life.
    Moments later, Naomi reentered the main room, attempting to hide a smile. “Okay, let’s get going here.”
    She pulled a chair up next to mine. “I think it is important that we process what happened at the Food for Thought event. Although we hear about violent crimes in the paper and on television, we were present at the scene of a terrible tragedy, and I’d like us to use each other as sounding boards to express any emotions we are experiencing. Chloe”—she paused and looked at me hard—“how are you?”
    I knew that if I said, “Fine,” the single innocuous word would lead to a lengthy discussion about my repressing unbearable emotions, so I lied and blathered on for a bit about how I was coping and leaning on Josh for support. “And how about you, Naomi? Do you have someone special you can lean on?”
    “Thank you for your concern. I have a very good support system in place. Now, moving along, let’s talk about the current cases we’re dealing with. In particular, there is a young woman I’ve spoken to a number of times. The same woman who left that message on your voice mail the other Jay, remember? She has chosen not to give any identifying information about herself, which is fine, but I think that it’s because she is so terrified of her employer. I spoke with her a few days ago, and her situation was unbearable. Her contact with one of her bosses disgusts me. He continually makes sexual advances, touches her inappropriately, and uses explicit language when speaking with her. Every caller we get deserves our full commitment, but no one is more needy or deserving of our help than this woman.”
    I knew exactly the caller Naomi meant and had to get her off the subject of this woman because, when I’d taken her first call, I’d given my usual unorthodox advice about fending off jerks by eating stinky foods. In answering the hotline, I tried to begin by following the standard recommendations from the manual, but I sometimes had to move beyond the book in ways that would have infuriated Naomi. For example, I didn’t want her to find out that I frequently suggested that women take self-defense classes and practice their moves on abusive bosses.
    “You know, Chloe,” continued Naomi, “I cannot stand to think of another woman waking up in the morning, frightened to death about having to go to work. I’ve never told you this, but I’ve been through this firsthand.”
    I stared at Naomi. “What?”
    “The year before I went to graduate school, I was working in a bank. I just had a teller job, and I was trying to save money that year for school. It was the worst year of my life. The bank manager seemed like a really wonderful guy. Married, pregnant wife, a real family man who was well liked by everyone I worked with.” She took a deep breath and went on. “I thought he was really nice, too, until the harassment started. I was young and insecure, and at first, his comments seemed like compliments, and I’m embarrassed to say that I was