A stocky man in his 20s walked into our video game store. I recognized him as one of our regular customers, but he wasn’t with his father. They always came together to buy Grand Theft Auto or Ghost Recon. But this afternoon he walked up to my register alone.

“Hi, how can I help you?” I asked.

He stood there, silent, no games in hand.

“Can I help you find something?”

No hint of his eyes showed under those dark frames, but I could feel him staring at me.

Then in a hushed voice, he asked, “Can we go somewhere?”

Maybe I didn’t hear that right. I asked him to repeat. In the same deep voice, he said, “Can we go somewhere?”

I felt creeped out. I told him politely, “If you need something, I can help you right here.” But he kept asking the same question.

My first instinct was to ignore this guy. But customer service, constantly beaten into my head at that store for two years, overrode my instinct. I didn’t want to get in trouble for refusing him help, so I said we could talk near the Xbox 360 section.

The 360 games were next to our supply room. There were three other coworkers nearby, all guys, one of whom was the assistant manager and a good friend. I walked the guy to the back and said, “Alright, so what can I help you with?”

He said nothing. He just stared at me for a few minutes until I got flustered and said, “OK, if you don’t need any help, I need to get back to work.”

He reached up and took off his sunglasses. But his eyes never moved off me. I tried to leave and said, “Look, if you need help, just come back to the register.”

He reached out and handed me his sunglasses. It was so sudden that I actually took them. I didn’t know what to say so I tried to give them back.

Then he reached inside his pants.

I shoved the glasses back at him and rushed into the supply room. The door was supposed to be locked at all times, but it never was. I was able to get into the room but had no way of locking it.

I backed away from the door and tried to make sense of what just happened. I could see the black guy’s hand slowly pushing it open, so I kicked the door shut and ran into the bathroom, which thankfully had a lock.

I paced inside, wondering where the other guys were. Didn’t they see me walk away with this big burly man? I hid for at least 20 minutes before I heard the door creak open again and someone shuffle inside.

I unlocked the door and peaked out as quietly as I could. Luckily, it was my assistant manager. I ran up to him and told him what happened. He said he wondered why some big guy kept standing outside the door trying to get in.

I asked my friend to kick the guy out or call the police. But he was hesitant. I kept telling him this wasn’t right, that this guy shouldn’t be in here acting like that.

Nothing was done. My manager, supposed friend, made me wait in the supply room for another thirty minutes for the burly man to leave.

We called our store manager later, who I also thought was a good guy, and told him the situation. He said he’d talk with the man next time he saw him.

I was enraged. Not only were they going to let this guy come back to the store, they told me if he did come back, that I can just wait in the supply room until he left.

My manager never did talk to him. And my district manager never did either. Instead of punishing my sexual harasser, I was punished by getting sent to the supply room every time this creep came back to the store.

I was utterly and equally disrespected by my harasser and my coworkers. Everyone’s actions – or inaction – told me I was not respected as a woman, friend or employee. They even had the nerve to joke about it, like it was a game, wishing it happened to them.

Real women aren’t like the ones lonely creeps pick up in video games. I don’t deserve to be treated like an item or a nametag behind a register, I deserve to be treated like a person.

I found out after I quit that the burly guy came back one day and beat his father in the store. They finally had the guts to call the police. I only wish they weren’t so craven the first time that man committed a crime.

It’s never shameful for men to stand up to other men and say sexual harassment is unacceptable.

- Christine Lines is a senior from Monterey, Calif., majoring in newspapers.