Working Woman

 14/25

Caleb closed the Skype call and sighed, the customer's face replaced by his own profile on the laptop screen. He brushed his long brown hair from his face and inspected his makeup carefully. An initial satisfaction at his increasing skill with cosmetics quickly subsided into shame as he viewed his immaculately plastered face. Pursing his lips, he wondered how it had come to this and despaired at the vanishing job market that would have usually offered him a way out.

Caleb was a veteran customer service representative for Glamazon, a colossal online store renowned for its agenda of female empowerment and women in the workplace. The board of directors were all women, every parcel was delivered by a female courier and should there be any problems with your product, you could talk face to face with a female representative. What the public didn't realise about this last part was that this experience was achieved through state-of-the-art filtering software that would transform the user's appearance, such as Caleb's, into that of an attractive woman. The software was expensive but it just wasn't practical to restrict the masses of entry level workers needed to fifty percent of the population. At least that was the case until recently, when due to the ongoing crisis, Glamazon were forced to close their offices and allow Caleb and his team to work from home. The news that the license for the female worker filter was only valid on company premises was delivered with a stern ultimatum of potential redundancy.

A pop-up indicating a fresh call caused a tightness in Caleb's chest. It was Bridgette, his line manager who unlike him was an actual woman, calling for his spot check. His hand quivered as he accepted the call and his boss's face appeared on the screen, rapt with glee.

“Oh, sweetie,” she simpered, “I just love how you've matched your lipstick with your blouse. You're leaning so fast. I am so proud.” Caleb instinctively hugged his body defensively. Bridgette was clearly enjoying every second but he was praying for the call to end. “Okay, now,” the woman on the screen adopted a stern expression, “you know what to do. I need to make sure you have 'everything' you need to do your job!” Caleb let out a defeated whimper and hesitantly pushed himself out of his seat and onto his towering heels so that Bridgette could see his whole body. She continued to bore her eyes into him and spun her finger in the international gesture that he should turn around. Awkwardly, he tottered around to give her a 360 degree view of his tight black mini-skirt and sheer silk stockings. Thankfully, when he finally returned to his starting position his line manager looked satisfied. “Good,” Bridgette smiled, “ can't have any more mishaps with you standing during a call and the customer seeing your horrid boy jeans, can we? By the way, I've had some more outfits sent over for you. They should arrive this afternoon. It's not right for a lady to wear the same clothes to work every day!” Caleb feigned gratitude and ended the call. He glanced at the time anxiously and hoped the delivery would come after his work day ended. There was nothing worse than answering the door dressed like this – especially to a Glamazon delivery.