So where we left off last week, was with me asking my friend to speak to the Stalker. Well, all I know is that from Friday until Wednesday, every time I walked through the lobby, the Stalker had not managed to get up to the front desk in time to glower at me as I traipsed through to exit.
So I talked to my friend on Wednesday to inquire if he had in fact spoken to the stalker. And no. So it was purely coincidental. I rescinded my request for him to talk to him, because if the Stalker goes without trying to engage me, and then my friend speaks to him, it might trigger the Stalker to fixate on me all over again.
So of course, Wednesday evening, after several nights of smooth sailing through the lobby, as I got out of the elevator and headed to the lobby, I saw he was there. I was approaching from behind, and as I was walking out with a group of people and walked past a pillar, I thought I was home free, and it was at that moment he turned around. I caught this in my peripheral vision, and I did not turn to lay eyes on him, nor did I acknowledge his presence with a cordial "have a nice night." I just kept walking.
Today I was informed that the Stalker allegedly told the Haitian doorman that he (Stalker) doesn’t know what he did to me. All I said to Haitian doorman was, “I told him. He knows what he did, and he doesn’t want to OWN up to his actions. Clearly he wants attention from me, and if he can’t get it from me, he’s going to get it from you. This whole fixation/obsession is sick. Protect yourself and disengage. He's just like our MOTHERS.”
And later on today, I called the security console and spoke to the Haitian doorman once more, to stress to him how this has been going on five-nearly-six weeks, and how creepy it is. And how I don't want to speak to their manager about this, but this is clearly upsetting me. And the Haitian doorman promised me to disengage, and try to defuse any future conversations the Stalker might initiate, invoking my name.
Only time will tell how much longer this ridiculous little drama will play out, but at least someone ELSE in security knows what's going on, and perhaps there's merit in that.
Friday, October 31, 2014
Thursday, October 23, 2014
My Stalker: Part 13: Today's Lunch
It was a total act of serendipity that the two guys with whom I go out to lunch (1-2x a month) called me up to invite me out for lunch today. How coincidental, given a few short hours before, the Stalker called me on my desk phone etc (see previous update).
These two guys are investigators and were asking all kinds of questions about the stalker. Age, where he lived, name, etc etc. And they set about doing the same process of profiling him as I did. I joked (but hoped they'd take me up on it) about the idea of running a File 15 on him, and we joked about the possibility of a sneak and peak, in which case I quipped, "Make sure you check the freezer." And one of the guys parried back with, "Yeah, and your container (which he is so hot to return to me) will be in there with a body part in it!" And I replied, "Yeah, a vagina!" And one of the guys replied, "Nah, perhaps a nipple!" Sick fucks we are, that's for sure.
I illustrated the full life span of the friendship with Sal: "He went from enjoying my FOOD to becoming Fredo (from Godfather, in particular, Godfather II)." My friends knew instinctively what it means to get my food. That it is a sign that you're on the inside of the circle of trust. And Fredo? Godfather II Fredo? "You're dead to me."
But the two sweetest things were said by the older of the two friends. In reply to my question, "Hey, if I said you hurt my feelings, what would you say?" And without batting an eye, he said, "I'd say I'm sorry, of course!" And I replied back, "Yes! Because you have awareness, and you value me and our friendship... and you're not a sociopath!"
And the second sweetest thing he said was, "Yanno, I'll go mano a mano with him if you want. I'll tell him to leave you alone." I might just take him up on this offer as he casts an intimidating figure.
So we're wrapping up things at the restaurant, and about to settle up our tab, and our tradition is all of us take turns reading aloud our fortunes from our cookies. And this one was mine:
Oh how we laughed HARD at this one!
PS: An accord has been struck! My friend D., will be the "token testosterone" who will tell Sal to leave me the fuck alone. Obviously there's some sort of short-circuiting going on here, whether it's just outright obtuseness, age, or perhaps a machismo thing preventing Sal from processing the fact I want to be left alone. And perhaps having a man step in to tell him to back off might be the ticket. It also helps my cause that my friend in question looks "old timey, pinky ring type thug, slicked back hair, leather bomber jacket, and just an overall intimidating countenance. Plus? Friend in question is a cop.
These two guys are investigators and were asking all kinds of questions about the stalker. Age, where he lived, name, etc etc. And they set about doing the same process of profiling him as I did. I joked (but hoped they'd take me up on it) about the idea of running a File 15 on him, and we joked about the possibility of a sneak and peak, in which case I quipped, "Make sure you check the freezer." And one of the guys parried back with, "Yeah, and your container (which he is so hot to return to me) will be in there with a body part in it!" And I replied, "Yeah, a vagina!" And one of the guys replied, "Nah, perhaps a nipple!" Sick fucks we are, that's for sure.
I illustrated the full life span of the friendship with Sal: "He went from enjoying my FOOD to becoming Fredo (from Godfather, in particular, Godfather II)." My friends knew instinctively what it means to get my food. That it is a sign that you're on the inside of the circle of trust. And Fredo? Godfather II Fredo? "You're dead to me."
But the two sweetest things were said by the older of the two friends. In reply to my question, "Hey, if I said you hurt my feelings, what would you say?" And without batting an eye, he said, "I'd say I'm sorry, of course!" And I replied back, "Yes! Because you have awareness, and you value me and our friendship... and you're not a sociopath!"
And the second sweetest thing he said was, "Yanno, I'll go mano a mano with him if you want. I'll tell him to leave you alone." I might just take him up on this offer as he casts an intimidating figure.
So we're wrapping up things at the restaurant, and about to settle up our tab, and our tradition is all of us take turns reading aloud our fortunes from our cookies. And this one was mine:
PS: An accord has been struck! My friend D., will be the "token testosterone" who will tell Sal to leave me the fuck alone. Obviously there's some sort of short-circuiting going on here, whether it's just outright obtuseness, age, or perhaps a machismo thing preventing Sal from processing the fact I want to be left alone. And perhaps having a man step in to tell him to back off might be the ticket. It also helps my cause that my friend in question looks "old timey, pinky ring type thug, slicked back hair, leather bomber jacket, and just an overall intimidating countenance. Plus? Friend in question is a cop.
On Triggers
I have been in therapy since 2009.
When I first started therapy, it was in preparation for my gastric bypass in 2010. And I decided to piggy back other issues onto it. My dad passed away in 2008, so there was a lot of sorting through my grief. And of course, there's the pesky business of 40+ years of living within my mother's sphere of influence.
And my mother is, pretty much, what has primed me for things I find "triggery." I'm on high alert for these types of behavior traits in others.
My tipping point is thus: Once I see that certain behaviors have become habit and part of the overall character of someone with whom I've been cultivating a friendship, I pretty much go on personal access lock down, and start to disengage completely from people who exhibit some of these traits (and yes, there's some cross over of these traits):
I am on lock down. No new friends. And really, I'm not going too far out of my way currently for the friends I currently have. I am in self-preservation mode. Boundaries up. I've worked too hard at gaining a sense of self and worth to put myself out there and be vulnerable. My energies are focused inward. This is not due to some overwhelming sense of selfishness, but out of fiercely protecting my SELF, and fact that I feel things VERY strongly and VERY deeply, and things that wouldn't hurt someone else, tend to hurt me immensely. For me, the lock down is all about control. At the moment, I'm trying to control my immediate environment, and by extension, my emotions.
When I first started therapy, it was in preparation for my gastric bypass in 2010. And I decided to piggy back other issues onto it. My dad passed away in 2008, so there was a lot of sorting through my grief. And of course, there's the pesky business of 40+ years of living within my mother's sphere of influence.
And my mother is, pretty much, what has primed me for things I find "triggery." I'm on high alert for these types of behavior traits in others.
My tipping point is thus: Once I see that certain behaviors have become habit and part of the overall character of someone with whom I've been cultivating a friendship, I pretty much go on personal access lock down, and start to disengage completely from people who exhibit some of these traits (and yes, there's some cross over of these traits):
- The moment people are cruel (whether carelessly or intentionally) to me (or I bear witness to the cruelty directed at others);
- Hipocrisy or willful stupidity;
- Inability to help themselves, yet mocking my own attempts at tending to my own life and issues;
- Bigotry;
- Hostile speech;
- Misinterpreting my strength or confidence as hubris or arrogance;
- Destructive speech/tearing me down, "take take take" rather than build me up or otherwise invest or "give give give" to cultivate the friendship;
- Increasing frequency of demands of my time, energy or actions;
- Outright disregard/disrespect for/of my boundaries.
I am on lock down. No new friends. And really, I'm not going too far out of my way currently for the friends I currently have. I am in self-preservation mode. Boundaries up. I've worked too hard at gaining a sense of self and worth to put myself out there and be vulnerable. My energies are focused inward. This is not due to some overwhelming sense of selfishness, but out of fiercely protecting my SELF, and fact that I feel things VERY strongly and VERY deeply, and things that wouldn't hurt someone else, tend to hurt me immensely. For me, the lock down is all about control. At the moment, I'm trying to control my immediate environment, and by extension, my emotions.
My Stalker: Part 12: Nuissance
I haven't exited via the back of the building for days. Half the time he's at the front desk, the other half he's not.
When he finally returned my book to me, I thought that would be the end of my interaction with him. But no. There was one day when I gave him a pint of homemade chili, and now the main attachment seems to be HIM reminding me that he needs to return my Rubbermaid container to me. Much like the book, I don't care if I get this container back. Just leave me the fuck alone, right?
Just now, I picked up my office phone, and there he was on the other end, asking to speak to me. Obviously he doesn't recognize MY voice, but I have a keen sense of voice recognition and I recognized HIS.
Again, returning a plastic container is not worthy of a call, when in all likelihood he's going to encounter me upon my exiting the building. So instead of forcing one interaction with the eventual hand off of the container, he's not forcing TWO interactions, with this unnecessary telephone call.
My response when I recognized his voice?
I HUNG UP THE PHONE.
Again, I dare say this is too subtle for him.
I cannot wait until this dog shit eventually works its way out of the grooves of my sneakers. I cannot wait to shake the stink off me.
And within five minutes of the call coming through, before hitting "update" on this post, I zapped him a text on his phone:
"Keep the container. Leave me alone."
For continuity purposes, I present a screen grab of the text. As you can see, the first text was in August right before his surgery. And the only other text was today's. It does not get much more direct than this, does it?
When he finally returned my book to me, I thought that would be the end of my interaction with him. But no. There was one day when I gave him a pint of homemade chili, and now the main attachment seems to be HIM reminding me that he needs to return my Rubbermaid container to me. Much like the book, I don't care if I get this container back. Just leave me the fuck alone, right?
Just now, I picked up my office phone, and there he was on the other end, asking to speak to me. Obviously he doesn't recognize MY voice, but I have a keen sense of voice recognition and I recognized HIS.
Again, returning a plastic container is not worthy of a call, when in all likelihood he's going to encounter me upon my exiting the building. So instead of forcing one interaction with the eventual hand off of the container, he's not forcing TWO interactions, with this unnecessary telephone call.
My response when I recognized his voice?
I HUNG UP THE PHONE.
Again, I dare say this is too subtle for him.
I cannot wait until this dog shit eventually works its way out of the grooves of my sneakers. I cannot wait to shake the stink off me.
And within five minutes of the call coming through, before hitting "update" on this post, I zapped him a text on his phone:
"Keep the container. Leave me alone."
For continuity purposes, I present a screen grab of the text. As you can see, the first text was in August right before his surgery. And the only other text was today's. It does not get much more direct than this, does it?
Thursday, October 16, 2014
My Stalker: Part 11: An Interaction
Last night I decided to deviate from the back exit strategy, despite the fact he was already at the front desk. The subtext of this move is, "I am not afraid of you."
And of course, in doing so, I was literally ONE FOOT OUT THE DOOR when he called out to me that he had my book. But of course, the book is in his locker, NOT at the front desk. All he got from me was the dead eyed stare of someone not amused, while he rushed to get the book. The only thing he said to me was "thank you." Whatever. I just kept walking.
I thought perhaps maybe he would have responded to my note in kind, with a note of his own, perhaps tucked inside the book. Once I got to the parking garage but before I got to my car, I opened the book up to see nothing but paper debris (receipts, business cards, etc) tucked inside, all of which I tossed in the trash. And the book in question? I placed on top of the trash bin, thinking if someone came along and wanted it, it was theirs for the taking. I did not want that book or its energy or attachment to him in my house.
Now that the book has been dealt with, thereby eliminating any further need or expectation of interaction, I am hoping this is the end of it. But I am still on my guard, and I have effectively and totally disengaged from him.
If for whatever reason he insists on trying to stop me again, I will be blunt and say, "What part of leave me alone, don't you GET?" and I'll just keep walking.
I remain convinced that he isn't aware he's dead to me.
And of course, in doing so, I was literally ONE FOOT OUT THE DOOR when he called out to me that he had my book. But of course, the book is in his locker, NOT at the front desk. All he got from me was the dead eyed stare of someone not amused, while he rushed to get the book. The only thing he said to me was "thank you." Whatever. I just kept walking.
I thought perhaps maybe he would have responded to my note in kind, with a note of his own, perhaps tucked inside the book. Once I got to the parking garage but before I got to my car, I opened the book up to see nothing but paper debris (receipts, business cards, etc) tucked inside, all of which I tossed in the trash. And the book in question? I placed on top of the trash bin, thinking if someone came along and wanted it, it was theirs for the taking. I did not want that book or its energy or attachment to him in my house.
Now that the book has been dealt with, thereby eliminating any further need or expectation of interaction, I am hoping this is the end of it. But I am still on my guard, and I have effectively and totally disengaged from him.
If for whatever reason he insists on trying to stop me again, I will be blunt and say, "What part of leave me alone, don't you GET?" and I'll just keep walking.
I remain convinced that he isn't aware he's dead to me.
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
A Moment of Levity
Given what I've been dealing with as of late, it makes my mother seem almost NORMAL.
Perspective is a glorious thing.
Perspective is a glorious thing.
My Stalker: Part 10: A Visual
The photo I am about to share harkens back to LAST Monday's run in, where it appeared as if he were lingering/loitering/LURKING between the two buildings for no apparent reason (other than, I suspect, to encounter me).
Where the arrow points to is a blind spot, which is not a fence, but a part of a retaining wall at the property line between the two buildings.
It’s not a place where someone with good intentions would linger.
And clearly, you see the entrance to the garage area that leads to the loading
dock. And given the time of evening, he should have been up at the front desk
10 minutes prior. So he was out there for a reason. And he doesn’t smoke, so
that is not a possibility.
Nothing has happened last night, but from now on when I exit, I’ll be doing so by crossing the street and bypassing that particular juncture. Soon with the roll back of daylight savings, it’ll start getting very dark very soon in the evenings, and well… you know I’m on high alert. I am ART OF WAR-ing the shit out of him (i.e., Know thy enemy). I plan on finding out the most info I can about the security guards. Just given the briefest amount of info from B., the former cop who will be retiring soon, but it doesn't appear as if the doormen are trained or vetted or bonded. So this is worrisome.
Not paranoid, but cautious. And above all else, I'm AWARE.
PS: FWIW, at Monday's session with my therapist, he thinks the way I am handling this is admirable. The entire session was devoted to the myriad of ways this entire scenario is chock full of WTF, and chock full of potential ways for this to go sideways or pear-shaped.
Where the arrow points to is a blind spot, which is not a fence, but a part of a retaining wall at the property line between the two buildings.
Nothing has happened last night, but from now on when I exit, I’ll be doing so by crossing the street and bypassing that particular juncture. Soon with the roll back of daylight savings, it’ll start getting very dark very soon in the evenings, and well… you know I’m on high alert. I am ART OF WAR-ing the shit out of him (i.e., Know thy enemy). I plan on finding out the most info I can about the security guards. Just given the briefest amount of info from B., the former cop who will be retiring soon, but it doesn't appear as if the doormen are trained or vetted or bonded. So this is worrisome.
Not paranoid, but cautious. And above all else, I'm AWARE.
PS: FWIW, at Monday's session with my therapist, he thinks the way I am handling this is admirable. The entire session was devoted to the myriad of ways this entire scenario is chock full of WTF, and chock full of potential ways for this to go sideways or pear-shaped.
Monday, October 13, 2014
My Stalker: Part 9: Night Terrors
I feel it worth mentioning that last night I had my first night terror in perhaps a full year. A full bodied, blood curdling scream. Imagine that. Screaming yourself awake. My heart pounding in my chest like pistons in a steam locomotive going at high speed.
As composed as I am, consciously, I worry that at my sub-conscious level, I'm much more distressed than I am allowing myself to experience or wallow.
It is now 1:38 a.m. Monday morning, and I'm afraid to go to sleep. And I know there are only so many times I can scream like this before, eventually, my neighbors call the cops on me, because SURELY it sounds as if someone were killing me.
As composed as I am, consciously, I worry that at my sub-conscious level, I'm much more distressed than I am allowing myself to experience or wallow.
It is now 1:38 a.m. Monday morning, and I'm afraid to go to sleep. And I know there are only so many times I can scream like this before, eventually, my neighbors call the cops on me, because SURELY it sounds as if someone were killing me.
Saturday, October 11, 2014
My Stalker: Part 8: My Judgement
So. About my stalker.
I don't view my befriending him as a sign my judgement is shitty. My first impulse in the past always was to turn my anger inward towards myself and my judgement. But here's the flaw with that logic or behavior: My judgement has been spectacular in the past, as that same judgement has led to me marrying my current husband, and has been spectacular in the cultivation of friendships, some of which have lasted upwards of nearing-three decades long.
I see my judgement as nothing short of stellar, and see the cultivation of that friendship as a testament to how manipulative and persuasive this SOCIOPATH is. I have been forthright with how I have presented myself, and sadly only over time was I able to discern he was misrepresenting himself. If, and only if things do escalate to the point of me reporting both, to my boss and his, I neither think I "deserved this" nor was I "asking for it," because at my core, I was nothing short of kind and "nice" to this person, even far longer than his behaviors really deserved. And in the end, my judgement demanded I starve the beast. Cautious and slow to act, but in the end, I judged and acted in accordance to my own dignity and integrity.
I actually had to articulate that very fact (I did not deserve this, I did not ASK FOR IT) to my mother, who is still living in the dark ages when "Let's blame the victim to justify the horrible act!"
So my tack is to starve the beast of the very thing it feasts upon: attention.
Monday will mark the third week of starving the beast.
I don't view my befriending him as a sign my judgement is shitty. My first impulse in the past always was to turn my anger inward towards myself and my judgement. But here's the flaw with that logic or behavior: My judgement has been spectacular in the past, as that same judgement has led to me marrying my current husband, and has been spectacular in the cultivation of friendships, some of which have lasted upwards of nearing-three decades long.
I see my judgement as nothing short of stellar, and see the cultivation of that friendship as a testament to how manipulative and persuasive this SOCIOPATH is. I have been forthright with how I have presented myself, and sadly only over time was I able to discern he was misrepresenting himself. If, and only if things do escalate to the point of me reporting both, to my boss and his, I neither think I "deserved this" nor was I "asking for it," because at my core, I was nothing short of kind and "nice" to this person, even far longer than his behaviors really deserved. And in the end, my judgement demanded I starve the beast. Cautious and slow to act, but in the end, I judged and acted in accordance to my own dignity and integrity.
I actually had to articulate that very fact (I did not deserve this, I did not ASK FOR IT) to my mother, who is still living in the dark ages when "Let's blame the victim to justify the horrible act!"
So my tack is to starve the beast of the very thing it feasts upon: attention.
Monday will mark the third week of starving the beast.
Friday, October 10, 2014
My Stalker: Part 7: Pepper Spray
I've attempted to order via Amazon, however, it's illegal to mail pepper spray in New York State. I contacted the nearest sporting goods store proximal to my office, and they don't sell pepper spray within the city limits. I'm undaunted, and researching, and if I have to hop the border to New Jersey this weekend to do so, I will, so I can ensure I am as armed for my own protection.
That being said, I found this useful information on the legal-ese of pepper spray in New York State:
That being said, I found this useful information on the legal-ese of pepper spray in New York State:
"FROM New York State Penal Law Exemption of Weapons Law §265. Sale of "self-defense spray device" Section §265.20
14.Possession in accordance with the provisions of this paragraph of a
self-defense spray device as defined herein for the protection of a
person or property and use of such self-defense spray device under
circumstances which would justify the use of physical force pursuant to
article thirty-five of this chapter.
(a) As used in this section "self-defense spray device" shall mean a pocket sized spray device which contains and releases a chemical or organic substance which is intended to produce temporary physical discomfort or disability through being vaporized or otherwise dispensed in the air or any like device containing pepper or similar disabling agent.
(b) The exemption under this paragraph shall not apply to a person who:
(i) is less than eighteen years of age; or
(ii) has been previously convicted in this state of a felony or any assault; or
(iii) has been convicted of a crime outside the state of New York which if committed in New York would constitute a felony or any assault crime."
(a) As used in this section "self-defense spray device" shall mean a pocket sized spray device which contains and releases a chemical or organic substance which is intended to produce temporary physical discomfort or disability through being vaporized or otherwise dispensed in the air or any like device containing pepper or similar disabling agent.
(b) The exemption under this paragraph shall not apply to a person who:
(i) is less than eighteen years of age; or
(ii) has been previously convicted in this state of a felony or any assault; or
(iii) has been convicted of a crime outside the state of New York which if committed in New York would constitute a felony or any assault crime."
My Stalker: Part 6: Strategic Avoidance & Escalation Abatement
There's a couple of things which are at play which prevent me from going to my boss and perhaps HIS.
1. This act could escalate things beyond where they are right now. Whether it's him being reprimanded, or worse, losing his job. I don't need him to fixate on me any further than he already, obviously is.
2. I remain unimpressed and distressed with my rapport (actually, the LACK of rapport) with one of my two "bossmen." Any time I come to him with any concern, he thinks I am a nag and negative and quite possibly a bitch. I've come to him about actual administrative shit, and he shrugs it off, at one point said "I don't have time for this shit," and even goes so far as to rarely, if ever, acknowledging my emails. It's distressing to be marginalized. Also, I've been harassed IN FRONT OF HIM by someone else, and he stood there and did nothing.
I don't see much good coming from either of these two scenarios. So. The only thing I am doing, in football parlance, "the best defense is a good offense," and be aware of my surroundings, don't dawdle in remote areas of the building, and get the fuck out on time. Also: Carry pepper spray.
One co-worker knows (for sure, that I told, though I am sure some folks over-heard this), and my husband knows, too. I was talking about it this a.m. and said how I wasn't sure if it were coincidental or if I'm just paranoid, but I am convinced he is still stalking me on the security cameras. Husband agrees not to do anything until or unless he escalates it. Hopefully that won't happen, but you never know.
I am not overly threatened by him. He's almost 60, out of shape, just had surgery a month ago, so I'm sure I could just punch or kick him in his gut, and make a dash for it if he were to get aggressive with me. But the whole subtext of I AM WATCHING YOU is more than a bit creepy.
And I know he's spreading some sort of rumor about me, because this a.m., upon entering, out-of-the-blue, one of the maintenance men asked me if I were alright. I didn't ask what he meant by that, and just replied, "Of course." But I know that Sal is spreading some sort of rumor about me to explain away why I have been avoiding him like a raging case of Ebola.
That's all I got for now, but I think it'd be hilariously ironic if, upon returning from Dick's Sporting Goods, where I hope to buy a small canister of pepper spray, if he'd somehow or another force an interaction. However, I'll thwart his attempts by doing the switcheroo, by trespassing thru the neighboring high rise, in the most convoluted route possible, to re-enter my building by way of the lobby--and hopefully before he transitions from the loading dock to the front desk at 2 p.m.
ETA: Fuck Dick's Sporting Goods, and fuck New York State. They cannot sell pepper spray. I might have to make a trek over the border to Paramus this weekend to get a wee bit of aerosolized protection.
1. This act could escalate things beyond where they are right now. Whether it's him being reprimanded, or worse, losing his job. I don't need him to fixate on me any further than he already, obviously is.
2. I remain unimpressed and distressed with my rapport (actually, the LACK of rapport) with one of my two "bossmen." Any time I come to him with any concern, he thinks I am a nag and negative and quite possibly a bitch. I've come to him about actual administrative shit, and he shrugs it off, at one point said "I don't have time for this shit," and even goes so far as to rarely, if ever, acknowledging my emails. It's distressing to be marginalized. Also, I've been harassed IN FRONT OF HIM by someone else, and he stood there and did nothing.
I don't see much good coming from either of these two scenarios. So. The only thing I am doing, in football parlance, "the best defense is a good offense," and be aware of my surroundings, don't dawdle in remote areas of the building, and get the fuck out on time. Also: Carry pepper spray.
One co-worker knows (for sure, that I told, though I am sure some folks over-heard this), and my husband knows, too. I was talking about it this a.m. and said how I wasn't sure if it were coincidental or if I'm just paranoid, but I am convinced he is still stalking me on the security cameras. Husband agrees not to do anything until or unless he escalates it. Hopefully that won't happen, but you never know.
I am not overly threatened by him. He's almost 60, out of shape, just had surgery a month ago, so I'm sure I could just punch or kick him in his gut, and make a dash for it if he were to get aggressive with me. But the whole subtext of I AM WATCHING YOU is more than a bit creepy.
And I know he's spreading some sort of rumor about me, because this a.m., upon entering, out-of-the-blue, one of the maintenance men asked me if I were alright. I didn't ask what he meant by that, and just replied, "Of course." But I know that Sal is spreading some sort of rumor about me to explain away why I have been avoiding him like a raging case of Ebola.
That's all I got for now, but I think it'd be hilariously ironic if, upon returning from Dick's Sporting Goods, where I hope to buy a small canister of pepper spray, if he'd somehow or another force an interaction. However, I'll thwart his attempts by doing the switcheroo, by trespassing thru the neighboring high rise, in the most convoluted route possible, to re-enter my building by way of the lobby--and hopefully before he transitions from the loading dock to the front desk at 2 p.m.
ETA: Fuck Dick's Sporting Goods, and fuck New York State. They cannot sell pepper spray. I might have to make a trek over the border to Paramus this weekend to get a wee bit of aerosolized protection.
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
My Stalker: Part 5: On Paranoia
Now, of course, any/every little otherwise seemingly coincidental run in, whether it be Monday's run in outside at the back of the building, or today's run in at the elevator (seriously, he rushed the elevator, almost bumping into me), I cannot help but wonder if it's a coincidence or if it's the result of him stalking me via the security monitors.
My Stalker: Part 4: As It Stands, Currently
I'm
still doing the strategic avoidance routine with him. Trying to stay as
far away from him and the security monitors as possible.
Monday night, I was running a few minutes late, too late for me to try to escape by way of the lobby (before he transitions from the loading dock to the front console for his final hour of his work day), so I opted to go out the backdoor (subtext: Convoluted exit plan).
I come out, and think I'm home free, and just as I pass the garage entrance (which leads to the loading dock where he is most of the day), he quickly comes up around the corner (I don't know what he could possibly have been doing out there, as he was clearly between our building (#44) and the next building (#34, which is the building I have been trespassing through in order to avoid passing the front desk of #44).
He quickly came up and around the corner of the building to go back into the garage (was he waiting there for me? I honestly don't know), and I'm so near sighted (and polite) that before my brain could identify that it WAS HIM, I blurted out, "Hey," and he looked up and said, "Hey," and kept walking, with a sheepish type look on his face.
So that was the single, solitary interaction he's had with me since LAST MONDAY, and he neither: 1. Told me, "Let me get your book," or 2. Said "I'm sorry." He just kept walking. At this point, I couldn't care less if I get either the book or the apology. I feel fairly certain he is either intimidated by me that I was so direct (I told him what he was doing wrong, but didn't berate him or be cruel about it), or he thinks I am nuts. In either case, I have downgraded him from "Friend" to "Asshole," and quite possibly am going to label him (for future reference) as a sociopath. How could someone who (claims to have been) was a SOCIAL WORKER be so utterly clueless and classless? It baffles my mind. Even though I *know* that sociopaths hide in plain sight, usually in positions of power, and can be otherwise charming individuals. This makes them all the more sinister, IMHO.
So, tonight, with any luck, I will leave here about 10 minutes early, and will traipse thru the lobby, and hopefully he will not be there yet. And if he is, I'm just going to keep walking. I have nothing to be ashamed of. I am still not convinced that this is the very last of this saga given how last week escalated so quickly.
I have issued forth a new edict to the cosmos/universe: NO NEW FRIENDS. I very much feel like that line of dialogue from the movie As Good As It Gets, "Go Sell Crazy Some Place Else, We're All Stocked Up Here." I'd say I'm good with friends. I don't need a tribe of hundreds.
Monday night, I was running a few minutes late, too late for me to try to escape by way of the lobby (before he transitions from the loading dock to the front console for his final hour of his work day), so I opted to go out the backdoor (subtext: Convoluted exit plan).
I come out, and think I'm home free, and just as I pass the garage entrance (which leads to the loading dock where he is most of the day), he quickly comes up around the corner (I don't know what he could possibly have been doing out there, as he was clearly between our building (#44) and the next building (#34, which is the building I have been trespassing through in order to avoid passing the front desk of #44).
He quickly came up and around the corner of the building to go back into the garage (was he waiting there for me? I honestly don't know), and I'm so near sighted (and polite) that before my brain could identify that it WAS HIM, I blurted out, "Hey," and he looked up and said, "Hey," and kept walking, with a sheepish type look on his face.
So that was the single, solitary interaction he's had with me since LAST MONDAY, and he neither: 1. Told me, "Let me get your book," or 2. Said "I'm sorry." He just kept walking. At this point, I couldn't care less if I get either the book or the apology. I feel fairly certain he is either intimidated by me that I was so direct (I told him what he was doing wrong, but didn't berate him or be cruel about it), or he thinks I am nuts. In either case, I have downgraded him from "Friend" to "Asshole," and quite possibly am going to label him (for future reference) as a sociopath. How could someone who (claims to have been) was a SOCIAL WORKER be so utterly clueless and classless? It baffles my mind. Even though I *know* that sociopaths hide in plain sight, usually in positions of power, and can be otherwise charming individuals. This makes them all the more sinister, IMHO.
So, tonight, with any luck, I will leave here about 10 minutes early, and will traipse thru the lobby, and hopefully he will not be there yet. And if he is, I'm just going to keep walking. I have nothing to be ashamed of. I am still not convinced that this is the very last of this saga given how last week escalated so quickly.
I have issued forth a new edict to the cosmos/universe: NO NEW FRIENDS. I very much feel like that line of dialogue from the movie As Good As It Gets, "Go Sell Crazy Some Place Else, We're All Stocked Up Here." I'd say I'm good with friends. I don't need a tribe of hundreds.
My Stalker: Part 3: Lunchtime Collateral Damage
On the heels of the crazy shit with Sal, I am now trying to find
some place just TO BE by myself during my lunch hour. (And given that some of my readers are also introverts of sorts, I'm sure you could appreciate this chapter of the story.) Fuck me sideways, I am running out of potential places to hide.
My options:
I have been amazed that whatever feel good or even neutralish good feels I’ve had since my vacation last month have lasted this long, but now I’m back to my full on I HATE PEOPLE mode and really just want to be left alone.
Wednesdays are typically my day to leave the building, go to farmer’s market or whatever. But I have a feeling I’ll be disappearing every day now. Perhaps get a walk in and go to Whole Foods to just sit and bask in my anonymity.
My options:
- In my own suite of offices on the fifth floor, there are two conference rooms and a
back room filing room, with a shared kitchen/pantry area we share with our
regional office. All of these are off limits because ... “PEOPLE.“
- There’s a huge-ass cafeteria/cantina downstairs where everyone in
the entire building has access, and it’s really just horrible with noise
pollution, as well as “PEOPLE.”
I just want to sit quietly, and 100% of the time when I do, I do so in a corner
chair, facing out the windows, my back to everyone, and anyone with a modicum
of awareness would read that as LEAVE ME ALONE, and yet, people still approach
me to talk about what I am making. Nice enough as that is, I just want to be
left alone. To me, my crochet is like meditation. I don’t want nor need to be
engaged in mindless chitchat. Just like in the workplace shithouse... no chitchat. Just leave me the fuck alone.
Since I gave Sal “THE NOTE OF DOOM,” obviously I’ve burned that bridge, nor would I want to sit in his office bullshitting, even if he made an attempt at apology (which he hasn’t, and I doubt he will—PS: I actually ran into him Monday night, while I was doing my back door exit routine, thinking he was already at his post at the front desk—no such luck, and no such apology either), I’ve been IN SEARCH OF alternate places just to eat my lunch and BE ALONE, without having to leave the premises.
- So I go down to our LL2, which is a secure floor, and go into the
small kitchenette/pantry area down there, only to realize that the cleaning
lady has taken it upon herself to take her breaks in there (seriously, this is
a high rise building, surely they have areas for the maintenance people to take
their breaks—not in the areas where TENANTS ARE). I was down there on Friday
and yesterday, each day she’s in there, wasting time and drinking her weight in
Keurigs (without putting any money in the till—it’s on an honor system,
btw). Sidenote: She’s slacking off, and it’s chapping my ass—every workplace has them.
I have my hands full with my own fucking slacker.
Today I get down there five minutes later than my norm, and she’s got my spot, the table which is just about in a blindspot, behind a load bearing post. I don’t feel like sitting down there, listening to her chatter on her cell or smelling her weird food smells, so I’m AGAIN, off to find some place just to BE.
- I scurry off to the conference room also down on that level. Door
locked.
- No place else except what amounts to a small anteroom barely bigger than a closet where the investigators have their lockers, and a few file cabinets. Yep. That’s where I went. No chair, so I swiped JabippyLoo’s, given she’s working 4 to midnight tonight. I sat in an over glorified closet/file room and ate my lunch in solitude in there.
I have been amazed that whatever feel good or even neutralish good feels I’ve had since my vacation last month have lasted this long, but now I’m back to my full on I HATE PEOPLE mode and really just want to be left alone.
Wednesdays are typically my day to leave the building, go to farmer’s market or whatever. But I have a feeling I’ll be disappearing every day now. Perhaps get a walk in and go to Whole Foods to just sit and bask in my anonymity.
My Stalker: Part 2: Existential Angst
Then,
of course, the Sal (stalker) situation is rife with attachment and negative
conditioning, first with the triggers which are similar to my mom's
behaviorisms, also my own losing of my self or losing my place. I came
from a middle to lower income family, and for the last 14 years, that
has not been my reality.
I have not forgotten "the salad DECADES." At my core, I still am that broken woman, bankrupted, living paycheck to paycheck, and ever-aware that I could be a paycheck or two away from being homeless. Once you live like this, you always live in fear of it, because it can and does happen in the blink of an eye.
While I don't consider myself a racist, I am a class-ist, and by that, I do not mean that someone's financial net worth or occupation dictates who they are or if they are worthy enough to cultivate a friendship with, but how they COMPORT themselves (do they treat everyone with dignity? are they kind? do they have any depth? do they have good manners?). This was the yardstick by which I decided to cultivate my friendship with Sal, because on the surface, he appeared deep, given he had a love of reading, and loved to read the same types of books/authors I do, and even managed to introduce me to a few I had not explored yet.
My dad was blue collar, and at times a security guard. I could remember sitting with him and playing pranks on his co-worker. Mom was in food service, and us kids have worked a series of service related jobs: waitressing, gas pumping, chamber maiding, landscape, you name it. So the idea to eliminate someone as a potential friend did not even factor into my processing. And the idea of commiserating with what I thought was a friend, talking about our mutual love of philosophy books (albeit in the comfort of the security office at my office building) still seemed natural to me.
My husband pointed out how the caste system pretty much eliminates this kind of thing, as folks (in India) tend to seek out their "own kind." Obviously, I've come to discover, "my own kind" is a very nebulous thing.
The only thing I can do is take everyone on their own merits and be much more scrutinizing moving forward. My husband even pointed out and boiled it down to that Sal and I only had one thing in common: books on philosophy. And obviously, reading doesn't necessarily equate to Sal actually processing the themes, nor does it automatically mean he's got awareness or enlightenment. He's totally deluded. Also, his education level* doesn't necessarily mean he's automatically any more sophisticated than Frank, the maintenance man.
The thing is, and while I did condense (imagine that! that SAGA I pecked out was a mere CONDENSING!) the story to the thing that tripped my trigger last week, there had been some other things perking for a while, which I just let aggregate until last week's events happened, and pretty much turned me off.
The speaking ill of everyone, in the most casual of off handed ways. Saying directly to a maintenance man (from Ghana) that I have to "watch out, he's got the Ebola." (This was the week prior--and I said directly in front of both of them how inappropriate I thought that was.) Or telling me regarding the same guy (not in front of him, of course), "Who ever took him out of the jungle did him a disservice." And then went on to tell me about how the same guy (Frank) is a "habitual baby daddy."
Also, sometime roughly end of August (prior to him going out on medical leave for surgery*), he said something to me about how the UPS man was spreading rumors that my co-workers think I am nuts. This struck me odd, as just the day before I said to Sal, that I know he's a captive audience, so if ever there's a day he doesn't feel like chatting, to let me know. I don't want to invade his space. So the next day he comes up with the "nuts" thing. In hindsight, I think it's SAL who is spreading this rumor.
Ultimately, he talks poorly about everyone, very casually, very matter-of-factly, that it made me think to myself "what does it say about me that I had chosen to cultivate a friendship with this person?" The fact that he, Sal (a Mexican, mind you) felt so comfortable saying these things around me disgusted me. Then couple that up with the personal shit directed at me, I just hit the point of no return.
And to use a movie analogy: Sal has become Fredo Corleone. I have reached the point where Michael Corleone finds out his brother betrayed him, and Michael says to Fredo, "You're dead to me."
I have not forgotten "the salad DECADES." At my core, I still am that broken woman, bankrupted, living paycheck to paycheck, and ever-aware that I could be a paycheck or two away from being homeless. Once you live like this, you always live in fear of it, because it can and does happen in the blink of an eye.
While I don't consider myself a racist, I am a class-ist, and by that, I do not mean that someone's financial net worth or occupation dictates who they are or if they are worthy enough to cultivate a friendship with, but how they COMPORT themselves (do they treat everyone with dignity? are they kind? do they have any depth? do they have good manners?). This was the yardstick by which I decided to cultivate my friendship with Sal, because on the surface, he appeared deep, given he had a love of reading, and loved to read the same types of books/authors I do, and even managed to introduce me to a few I had not explored yet.
My dad was blue collar, and at times a security guard. I could remember sitting with him and playing pranks on his co-worker. Mom was in food service, and us kids have worked a series of service related jobs: waitressing, gas pumping, chamber maiding, landscape, you name it. So the idea to eliminate someone as a potential friend did not even factor into my processing. And the idea of commiserating with what I thought was a friend, talking about our mutual love of philosophy books (albeit in the comfort of the security office at my office building) still seemed natural to me.
My husband pointed out how the caste system pretty much eliminates this kind of thing, as folks (in India) tend to seek out their "own kind." Obviously, I've come to discover, "my own kind" is a very nebulous thing.
The only thing I can do is take everyone on their own merits and be much more scrutinizing moving forward. My husband even pointed out and boiled it down to that Sal and I only had one thing in common: books on philosophy. And obviously, reading doesn't necessarily equate to Sal actually processing the themes, nor does it automatically mean he's got awareness or enlightenment. He's totally deluded. Also, his education level* doesn't necessarily mean he's automatically any more sophisticated than Frank, the maintenance man.
*Allegedly has a Ph.D. in public health--yet, why is he a doorman?
The thing is, and while I did condense (imagine that! that SAGA I pecked out was a mere CONDENSING!) the story to the thing that tripped my trigger last week, there had been some other things perking for a while, which I just let aggregate until last week's events happened, and pretty much turned me off.
The speaking ill of everyone, in the most casual of off handed ways. Saying directly to a maintenance man (from Ghana) that I have to "watch out, he's got the Ebola." (This was the week prior--and I said directly in front of both of them how inappropriate I thought that was.) Or telling me regarding the same guy (not in front of him, of course), "Who ever took him out of the jungle did him a disservice." And then went on to tell me about how the same guy (Frank) is a "habitual baby daddy."
Also, sometime roughly end of August (prior to him going out on medical leave for surgery*), he said something to me about how the UPS man was spreading rumors that my co-workers think I am nuts. This struck me odd, as just the day before I said to Sal, that I know he's a captive audience, so if ever there's a day he doesn't feel like chatting, to let me know. I don't want to invade his space. So the next day he comes up with the "nuts" thing. In hindsight, I think it's SAL who is spreading this rumor.
*The
day after his surgery, I actually went to the hospital with a small
goodie bag of things that are so useful that no one thinks about but
needs in a hospital right after surgery: Earplugs, blindfold, wet wipes
for the face, mouth moistening losenges, chap stick. I did this like I
would do FOR ANY FRIEND OF MINE. The husband believes this was the tipping
point, giving Sal license to feel overly-familiar with me, like he was
entitled to just no longer give a shit about the pretense of politeness.
Ultimately, he talks poorly about everyone, very casually, very matter-of-factly, that it made me think to myself "what does it say about me that I had chosen to cultivate a friendship with this person?" The fact that he, Sal (a Mexican, mind you) felt so comfortable saying these things around me disgusted me. Then couple that up with the personal shit directed at me, I just hit the point of no return.
And to use a movie analogy: Sal has become Fredo Corleone. I have reached the point where Michael Corleone finds out his brother betrayed him, and Michael says to Fredo, "You're dead to me."
My Stalker: Part 1: Trigger Tripped
Someone with whom I've been cultivating a friendship with, who
(CLAIMS he) was a social worker in the past, has been jokingly accusing
me of being a hypochondriac. Couple this up with other shit, like asking
leading questions, then when I answer, he drones on about me being a
narcissist and a hypochondriac. It's been happening with more
regularity, and isn't something I can ignore. I find it appalling
actually.
I've been harboring some awkward feelings for a
while, little red flags popping up along the way (total time: six
months), until LAST Monday. Starting Monday afternoon, I was avoiding him for several days, and he
kept calling my desk (and hanging up). I really have nothing more to
say. But I fear/feel it's going to get confrontational.
Monday
was the tipping point. After spending (what I believe is/was my final
lunch hour socializing with him, a full hour, I might add), he insisted
on calling me later, to let me know he went home to get my book. This
was a needless call, as my routine, at day's end, is to pass his desk on the way out. I
refused to pick up the call (it went to voicemail), and I refused to
call him back.
He's demanding too much of my time (and hello, I'm
married--and no, I haven't gotten any indication that he's got romantic
inclinations towards me). But still, this weird
attachment and ever-increasing demands of time have been chapping my
ass. I mean, okay, I was socializing with him DURING MY LUNCH HOUR (and
not every single day, but a lot of days, consistently), and if that
weren't bad enough, trying to leave by way of the lobby is like a
conversational bear trap which I cannot seem to extricate myself
cleanly. Then, the increasing telephone calls. I don't have the stamina
or give a fuck for this!
Tuesday, he called my desk FOUR TIMES,
and each time, did not leave a voicemail. He just kept calling thinking
surely I'd pick up. And if he just called, and an unlisted caller called
me, I'd avoid picking up that call, too, thinking it was him.
Wednesday was a mirror image of Tuesday with more calls.
So Wednesday, I succinctly pecked out my thoughts, printed it up, and folded it up tightly. I had it in my
pocket so when interaction was inescapable, I could (AND DID!) pull this
out and say something glib like "talk later," and then continue walking with a purpose away from him.
It's essentially a "FUCK YOU BOMB," because I've been too damned
Churchill-ian* in my responses in person, up until the point I gave this
printed up note.
The note, in entirety reads:
Since you are not reading the cues on my face or my body language, perhaps reading words on a page will articulate this best:
1. When you call me a hypochondriac, I do not find this funny. I find it damaging and insulting.
2. When you say you don't believe that I am actually depressed, I find it damaging and presumptuous.
3. When you laugh about this, I find it damaging and mocking.
I need my space.
Thursday, the inescapable happened on Thursday, as he's been stalking me on the
security cameras at work, and if he sees I took the freight elevator
down to drop off the mail, he comes out of his office to bullshit, and
it's getting very creepy. IMHO.
This scenario had been playing
out all week, and intensifying. I had been avoiding leaving the building
by my usual (and most direct route to get to my car) by way of the lobby to avoid
interacting with him, because it's gotten to the point where he's just a
BLACK HOLE sucking up all available time and energy, and I don't have
the stamina or give-a-fuck for this anymore. Also? He talks poorly about
everyone else--and I've come to the conclusion HE is the one spreading
rumors about me, not the UPS driver. (More on this in a separate email.)
Monday and Tuesday night, I was leaving a bit
early so as to avoid him. Only by Weds he caught onto my routine (see
also: Stalking me on the monitors), that when the elevator dumped me out
on lobby level, I could hear his voice off in the distance, so I had to
make a hasty exit out the back, which is the most convoluted route
possible. By Thursday morning, I had my fill of this bullshit. I decided
one of us had to be the adult, and realized "THAT SOMEONE" had to be
me. The note hand-off would take place Thursday.
Again, I go down
to drop the mail off at the loading dock (mind you, all week long I had
been avoiding this very task, and preferred to take the mail to the POST OFFICE instead, which is on my way to the train station to pick up the
husband). And as predicted, he runs out to see me and try to engage.
I walked with a purpose and as I passed him, I palmed off the note, and
kept going, as I could hear him in the background reminding me about my
book (which he went home special on Monday to get,
because during Monday's conversation he asked about a Bhagavan Das book I
WAS going to loan him and I said, "Yeah, well, you still haven't
returned DaVinci Code, yet") and how he brought it in for me (which at this point, I don't give
a shit if I get it back at this point). Mind you, one voicemail and EIGHT call and hang ups regarding a fucking book. It's a bit excessive if you ask me.
Also, very triggery for me, as this is the same type
of carelessly cruel, narcissistic, and emotionally damaging type
behaviors my mother does. Perhaps my awareness is keenly tuned into it
because of 46 years of dealing with this type of monster.
Regarding the Churchill-ian reference:
"The height of diplomacy is telling someone to go to hell in such a way where they actually look forward to the trip."
Bottom line: I've been too nice, and this asshole has been increasingly
feeling more comfortable to say whatever-the-hell he wants without
having any regard for my feelings.
If you've read this far,
thank you very much for your time. I know it's a lot to read. I haven't
notified my boss or his yet, and hope I don't have to. How he responds
(if any) to the note will determine that. But as an aside, I am going to
buy myself some pepper spray and wear it on the lanyard around my neck,
which also has my access/swipe cards to get into my office, so it'll
always be there, if I need it. No loitering or lingering in the building after hours either. And I'm trying to find places to hide.
Next up: Existential angst and Lunchtime Collateral Damage.
PS: I've attempted to fix the formatting in this post several times, and the HTML is not agreeing with me. Seriously, I don't format paragraphs like this.
PS: I've attempted to fix the formatting in this post several times, and the HTML is not agreeing with me. Seriously, I don't format paragraphs like this.
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