A Defining Moment

I was early in my career, filled with excitement and optimism. I had recently landed a job at a management firm that provided employment supports, a position I had worked hard to secure. I loved the work, I had great colleagues, and I was surrounded by mentors who seemed eager to guide me. One aspect of the office that stood out to me was the shared printing room, where everyone would go to handle their print jobs. It was a social space, a neutral zone where employees from all departments would gather, chat briefly, and then get back to work.

Across from this printing room was the office of a more senior male colleague. He had been with the firm for years and seemed well respected by others. To be clear, I was friendly with everyone, but I was not flirtatious. I valued professionalism and had no interest in anything other than succeeding at my job and learning from the people around me.

At one point, a job vacancy came up. My coworker and I were certain that I would be moving into that role. We were confident. I had built the right relationships, developed a strong understanding of the work, and was ready for this next challenge. When I was called into the senior manager's office one day, I thought this was it. I was certain that this was the moment he was going to offer me the job. My nerves were tingling with excitement and anticipation.

But as I walked into his office and he closed the door behind me, something felt wrong. His demeanor was not what I expected. The warmth I had anticipated was replaced with a coldness that seemed to settle into the room. I could feel the shift in the air, and my stomach twisted into a tight knot. He motioned for me to sit, and I did, trying to maintain composure, but something told me that this was not going to be a normal conversation.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you,” he said, his voice strangely serious. “All I can think about is you. I watch you every time you go to the printer, and I can’t get you out of my mind.”

I froze. My heart dropped, my mind spun, and I could feel the blood rush to my face. This was the opposite of what I had expected. Everything inside me recoiled at his words. This wasn’t a compliment, this wasn’t admiration—it was inappropriate, unsettling, and completely unprofessional. Without thinking, my body reacted. I stood up, pushing my chair back. The shaking in my hands was hard to ignore. I looked at him, my voice clear and firm, despite my body’s tremor.

“You’re not in love with me,” I said. “You just bought a house with your girlfriend. You need to sort your shit out.”

He just sat there, silent, not moving, not reacting. I don’t know what he expected from me, but I wasn’t going to entertain whatever fantasy he had spun in his mind. I turned and walked out of his office, my body still trembling. The weight of the moment sat heavily on my chest as I made my way back to my cubicle.

One of my coworkers, who had been sitting at her desk nearby, asked me if everything was okay. I barely made it to her before the words spilled out. I told her what had just happened. We were both young, and neither of us had been given any formal training on what to do in a situation like this. We weren’t sure how to handle it, but we both knew that something was terribly wrong. Neither of us had any real guidance on how to address harassment, and at that moment, I felt utterly alone.

In the days that followed, I shut myself off from everyone. I avoided the printer room, the one space that had once felt like an easy spot for small talk and casual interaction. I stopped engaging with my coworkers, withdrawing into my own thoughts and feelings. I couldn’t shake the shame and embarrassment that clouded my every move. I kept asking myself why this had happened and why I hadn’t seen it coming. I started searching for other jobs, feeling like this one had been tainted by an experience that I couldn’t erase.

It was unfortunate, because everything else about the job had been perfect. I had enjoyed the work, the people, and the opportunity for growth. But after that moment, I couldn’t stay. I left shortly after, and the sense of relief that came with my resignation was tempered by the sadness of walking away from something I had truly loved.

Looking back, I realize that experience was a turning point in my career. It shaped how I approached not only professional relationships but also how I viewed power dynamics in the workplace. That moment made me realize that it didn’t matter who you were, or how high you were on the organizational ladder—nobody had the right to exert that kind of control over another person. I began to see people in positions of power not as infallible figures, but as individuals with increased responsibility, not authority over my will or my spirit.

I also recognize now that I could have gone to my supervisor. I could have reported what had happened and pursued a formal complaint. At the time, I didn’t know that I could. I was early in my career. No one had ever explained to me what to do if I faced harassment at work. I was left to deal with it alone. But now, I know better. That experience instilled in me the importance of speaking up—not only for myself but for others as well. It taught me that silence allows injustice to grow, and sometimes, speaking out may push you out of your comfort zone, but it’s a crucial step toward creating change.

It also gave me the courage to advocate for myself and others in situations where there is power imbalance or injustice. I’ve carried that lesson forward in every aspect of my life, professionally and personally. While the experience was painful, it made me stronger, more self-aware, and more committed to standing up for what is right, even when it’s difficult.