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Jemma hurried into the luncheon room with just five minutes left before the panel she was supposed to be leading on Women in STEM. Her presentation before lunch had ended precisely on time, but several people had stayed afterwards to discuss her research. By the time she’d gathered up her laptop and posters and brought them back to her car, she was starving and out of sorts and feeling a little bit sweaty.
She rushed over to the buffet to find just one, sad, half-mangled sandwich left and a few limp pieces of fruit. It was hardly appetizing, but it still technically qualified as food, so…
She hunted around for a moment looking for a plate, or at the very least a serviette so that she could carry her ‘lunch’ over to the hall where the panel was being held. She finally found a couple of cocktail napkins over by the empty coffee urn and then turned back just in time to see someone else taking her food.
“No!” she wailed, perhaps just a bit too dramatically.
The man startled and immediately dropped the sandwich that he’d had halfway to his plate. It collapsed onto the tablecloth in even worse shape than it had been before, and Jemma stared at it in utter disappointment.
“Erm… sorry?” he said, looking at her with a mixture of awkwardness and fear. “Everything alright?”
She was sure that if she weren’t looking at him, he’d have bolted.
“I missed lunch,” Jemma said pitifully, dropping the napkins on the table in defeat. “And I need to be at my panel in,” she looked at her watch and sighed. “Now.”
Looking a bit wistfully at the sandwich she hadn’t been looking forward to eating, she picked up two thin slices of cantaloupe and an orange wedge.
“Sorry for the fright,” she apologized with a small, sad smile. “I think my blood sugar’s a bit low.” Shrugging, she sighed again in a ‘what are you going to do’ sort of way. “Enjoy the rest of the conference.”
“And now we’ll open it up for the Q&A,” Jemma said brightly. She’d managed to request a cup of tea at least and the miraculous power of Earl Grey had sustained her for the last hour.
She gestured to the mic runners that they could allow their first questions. On the right hand side of the hall was a man who’d been standing for nearly the entire panel, so she allowed him to go first.
Shielding her eyes so she could see past the stage lights, she thought he looked familiar. Perhaps he’d been in her session that morning?
“Ah, yes,” came a Scottish accent.
Her eyes widened. It was the man from the buffet.
“I actually,” he cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. “I have two questions, if that’s alright?”
Jemma nodded. Then realized she actually had to say something. “Of course. Go right ahead.”
He nodded and cleared his throat again.
“My first question is for the panel as a whole. What can I, as a man working in STEM, do to make sure that I’m supporting the women who work with me? What kind of pitfalls can I avoid falling into that you wish more men would realize?”
Jemma nodded. It was a general question, but it was a good starting place for a discussion. She was just turning to the rest of the panel when he spoke again.
“And my second question is, do you like chicken salad? Only I feel bad for taking the last sandwich before, so I went to the shop across the street.”