From PRX, this is the Moth Radio Hour. I'm Jennifer Hickson. In this hour, we'll hear stories

from three people who saw injustice and took action. Their foes are varied, the criminal

justice system, Soviet bureaucracy, or a single menacing adversary. Stories from people

who engaged the problem, whether it was blaringly loud or as in this first story, completely

silent. It comes from Phyllis Baudrin who we first met at a story slam in the Bronx.

Here's Phyllis.

It's 1979 and summer in New York City. That was 38 years ago when I was being interviewed

for a promotion from Secretary to Coordinator of Daytime Casting at ABC. I wore my new silk

blouse, matching slim skirt and two-inch yellow sling back heels. I thought I was ready.

Although there was some who thought I was tough enough to hold onto a job like that.

And somewhere in a tiny corner of my mind, there was a part of me that suspected fear

that they might be right. I even had a secretary come up to me and say, Phyllis, you're

too nice. And to which I responded, thank you. In any case, I was meeting a friend from

lunch across the street before my two o'clock interview. And when I got there, I found

hordes of people spending the length and the width of the sidewalk in front of the building

three people deep. But I found a gap, cut through it. And when I got into the center of this

human oval, something came up behind me, grabbed me, prevented me from moving, pinning my

arms to my sides. And I looked over both shoulders to see if I could find out what it was,

but I didn't see anything. So I started to struggle. And the more I struggled, the tighter

the grip became. And then I looked to the sea of faces for some clue, some information

that would help me to understand what was holding me, what was going on. But they were

just placidly chewing and eating their lunch and staring at me. Suddenly, the pressure

...