It was my first job, working as a temporary sales girl during the Christmas rush at Richardson’s, the finest jewelry store in our city.

The job was very important to me. Dad had passed away and Mother and I did not have enough to live on in those hard Depression years. I worked in the diamond department. My duties were to arrange the goods, keep them clean, and run errands (跑腿). It was interesting work that I enjoyed thoroughly.

As Christmas drew near, the days became more rushed, but also more exciting. One afternoon, Miss Allan, the head of the department, asked me to get her the diamond ring from the end showcase. I hurried back, with the ring in my hand when I noticed a man on the other side of the row of showcases. He was tall and in his early thirties. But it was the expression on his face that stopped me. He looked bitter, angry and confused. From his well-cut but worn-out suit, I could tell he was one of thousands trained for jobs they could no longer find. He gazed at the beautiful stones with the despair of a man whose right to earn them had been taken away. I had a sudden feeling of sympathy. But I had other things on my mind and soon forgot about him.

A few minutes later Miss Allan called for me again. This time for the clip (夹子) that went with the ring. The clip was at the very front of the window. I got it. But just as I was backing out, my sleeve caught on the corner of a tray (盘子) of diamonds. The tray started to fall, and six magnificent diamond rings rolled across the floor.

Down on my knees, I collected five rings with the greatest speed and put them in the tray. But I couldn’t find the sixth! I thought it must have slipped through the tiny opening between the showcase and the window. I ran around the counter and looked down. It wasn’t there. Just then, out of the corner of my eyes I saw the tall man moving quietly toward the door of the shop, a few yards away. At that moment I knew that he had the ring. He had been standing at the only spot to which it could have rolled. I reached him just as he got to the door.

The clock read 11 p.m. and I was still in the lab but I couldn’t focus. But going home wasn’t an option. My adviser had required me and the rest of my lab mates to stay in the lab until she had time to read all of our reports. She had decided she wanted to meet early with each of us to discuss the single-paragraph descriptions of our work. We waited dutifully as each lab member took their turn. None of us dared to leave or to challenge our boss. I didn’t get home until 1:30 a.m.

It was one more reminder that I should have been more careful when selecting a graduate adviser. Unfortunately, I was foolish enough not to give the directing style a second thought. I was simply happy to have received an offer.

Part of the problem was that I had limited options. I moved to the United States with my husband, who had a good job in a particular city. It had only one university, with only one department that really interested me. So I started to volunteer in a research lab there.

I was a regular attendee at departmental discussion groups, and that was where I met my future adviser. After she presented a meeting, I approached her and we set up a time to chat. We had a productive discussion about her research. Later, I went to dinner with her lab group.

I didn’t pick up any signs of trouble, although one person who worked in a lab that shared space with hers did tell me about coming across one of her lab members crying in the break room. I ignored that warning sign. Within a few weeks, the staff member offered me a position in her lab as a master’s student. The opportunity seemed too good to pass up. I hoped it would work out.

It wasn’t long before reality set in. Group meetings were terrible. Our adviser was often angry.

The situation disappointed me.

A year later, I finally had the opportunity to change my adviser with a different lab.