As If Coming to The Office Weren't Bad Enough: The Hostile Work Environment Complaint

You'd think this is going to be a post about the Stalker; however, it's not. Well, not directly. Though he is lumped into the "I'm as mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore" kind of theme. 

In the last 13 almost 14 years of my employment, I have a co-irker who is now in his 80s. His overall demeanor varies from brusque and uncooperative to hostile and somewhat sexually inappropriate. I have been holding off on lodging a formal complaint for two very big reasons: 1. I have been secretly hoping he'd retire or expire eventually; and 2. I know others have lodged complaints, for which he was written up and inescapably nothing of any consequence ever happens to him.

Two years ago we relocated to a new office, and at that time I started to formulate a "timeline of inappropriateness." There have been occasions where he has ogled me, and outright harangued me about allowing him to kiss me on the lips. Both of these two scenarios are blatantly sexually inappropriate, and in both cases, I've informed him of such, and attempted to establish BOUNDARIES, which only makes him more hostile or brazen.

During the holiday season when we had a day with a skeleton crew, he came up to my office to intimidate and harass and insult me, when I dared to transfer particular calls to him--which (he has been informed by his boss) IS HIS JOB. Anyway, this occasion in December was my tipping point. And my first order of business on January 4th was to report him to his boss, who has now escalated things to the point where "THE COMMITTEE" that handles such complaints is now involved.

Twenty-two days after I lodged my initial complaint, reps from THE COMMITTEE came to interview me, and I gave them the run down of particular incidents, the one in December which I have a witness, and regarding the "kiss harassment," I have two witnesses who were in attendance at a retirement party we all attended and saw first hand the kiss harassment--which was the second time I informed him again, directly (and this time more forcefully) that if he wants to kiss me, he can do so on my cheek, and that only my husband gets my lips. Anyway...

It's now been close to three weeks since they interviewed me, and though I thought today would be the day they would be interviewing my witnesses, I have to wait ten more days until that happens, and who knows how much longer until this ShitShow or Shituation is resolved.

I'm anxious and full of regret, but not regretting my decision to report him. I'm regretting that it's come to this. Why couldn't he retire? Why couldn't he at a minimum APOLOGIZE, EVER for anything? I think of Jim Carrey's character Fire Marshall Bill on the old In Living Color show, and yes, the character in and of itself is HILARIOUS, but in all seriousness, this person is like an 80 year old cop version of Fire Marshall Bill--and it's far from hilarious. 

When I was regaling the reps from THE COMMITTEE about the day he ogled me when I wore a Grumpy Cat tee shirt and he fixated on the placement of the eyes being right on my tits, and he put his glasses on and zoomed in on my rack so close I thought he'd start motor-boating me (I did a full pantomime for the reps, by the way), they laughed at the outlandishness of it.

Then I went into detail about this fascination with kissing, and the gall and entitlement issues he's got, demanding he gets the lips, when he kisses everything that will stand still, which has all of the allure of sitting on a toilet seat in the ladies loo in Grand Central Terminal--clearly his lips get a lot of action, and of course the obvious hilarious irony of there is no greater way to make someone feel OH SO inclined to allow you to kiss them on the lips than to BULLY THEM.  The last two times he did this, I informed him of the boundary, the last time this happened was at a party, and my personal tipping point was met.  

From 2014 until now, I have pondered everything I'm experiencing, and temper it with the knowledge of previous complaints others have lodged against him. And gradually I have downgraded him from friend, to friendly work acquaintance, to the perv codger with whom, unfortunately, I work. (with whom *NOT* FOR WHOM)

He's ten years older than what my dad would be if he were alive today; and he's ten years younger than my grandfather. I could be either his kid or his grandkid is my point--how would he feel if some pervy codger was doing this to his daughter or granddaughter? 

This is on the baseline of bullshit with my Stalker, and a life time of being bullied, harassed and or abused by my own family.

To be honest, I've verbally articulated my disgust to this pig, and in all other manner of body language and facial countenance etc. It's not my fault he fails at basic communication. 

I've decided I don't give a shit about being nice anymore or being quiet. And the look of utter disgust on his boss' face was just enough validation I needed to know I was doing the right thing in reporting him. Even he said, "He's a bully!" So this is not something unique to me. It's not something I'm imagining.  We're all entitled to a "one off" or a bad day. This asshole's blaring issue is thinking he's curmudgeonly, when he's really cantankerous.

Anyway, the resolution is slow in coming.  I sit and wait. And hope that when it comes time for my witnesses to give their statements that it's enough to bolster my original complaint--perhaps they'll take the opportunity to share other examples of his assholeishness, too? One can only hope.

Abraham Maslow is credited with saying something about how if the only tool you are provided is a hammer, then you start to view every problem as a nail. The issue here is that not every problem can be fixed with a solitary tool.

My problem is, that my parents were victims of bullying, harassment, and abuse all their lives. So no great surprise that they failed to provide the necessary tools for me to navigate this type of problem solving and conflict resolution. And add to it, being a woman, women typically in the past have been raised with the notion of being NICE and being QUIET, which just allows bullies and abusers to continue with their bullying and abusing.  

My mother's mode of dealing with conflict (if she's not the active aggressor) is to be an ostrich with her head in the sand.  My father's mode of dealing with conflict was pretty much rage.

I know I still have work to do; however, I am not sure how to do what needs doing.

"Irritable Vowel Syndrome"

Not much going on here. There was (yet another) crane collapse in NYC, and Audrey called and left a voicemail at my home and on my cell, all in a tizzy about whether the Maharajah was anywhere's near there. Whatever. She can't be bothered in 14 years to learn how to spell his name (a whopping six letters long) or find out (and remember) when his birthday is, SURRRRRE she gives a shit about this crane situation. Also? Manhattan is a big expanse of territory (33.77 square miles, to be precise). So, no. I wasn't in a rush to call her back.

She did manage to call me on Saturday (2/13), and I answered because (HELLO! Her phone is still fucked up for incoming calls). Her declaration, "I miss you," was kinda left dangling out there in mid-air, unacknowledged and unreplied to--kind of like a flaccid wiener: UNWANTED.  Meh. Whatever. I didn't take the bait for that, either.

I took the wind out of her sails with the only little tidbit of news she presented me with, news I already knew of: That my great-aunt E., is having a relapse of the breast cancer she battled 22 years ago. I wonder what she has to say or think about the fact I knew this for 7-10 days long before she (and her sister) were aware. My attitude is, it's not my news to share. And Aunt E., is a stoic, so really, no. Not my news to share. AT ALL.

And the mind drifts to a statement my brother always says, "She opens her mouth, and nothing but stupid falls out."  True, true. But if my brother were to bother to acknowledge the texts I send him, I'd send him one with today's neuron that fired: "She suffers from Irritable VOWEL Syndrome." 

 

My Stalker: Part 18 Apparently, He's Still At It.

A while ago, we upgraded my phone. And in doing so, I forgot to reblock the Asshole Stalker's number on my phone. Or I did, and then eventually I deleted him from my contacts (for obvious reasons) and in doing so, it deleted the block? 

IDK the particulars, but all I know is today, I looked at my phone and around 3:30, there's this 490-XXXX number on it. The person called and hung up, and knowing I've got a bunch of doctors whose numbers have not made it into my contacts list, I called.

And I recognized the voice of my stalker. 

And I hung up.

And apparently, according to Jean the other security guard, Sir Asshole is still lamenting his status outside my circle of trust.

And I fail to comprehend how, "Leave me alone," doesn't sum up my sentiment for him to do precisely that. LEAVE ME ALONE. 

The fact that he doesn't understand this is not my problem.
The fact that he misses whatever he thought of our friendship, this, too, is not my problem.

To date, he's even failed to apologize or otherwise take ownership of the insults etc. It's actually tedious as fuck to even know this is going on, and of course, conversations with Jean have now been two days running (this post is actually being penned on the 5th) and Sir Asshole has dominated as the topic. 

And today while carrying on a conversation with Jean, which I had hoped would veer off into more interesting things, all the while I am being stalked on the CCTV monitor by Sir Asshole, Sir Asshole is calling Jean on the console for extraneous shit, interrupting our conversation. 

And not to be outdone, roughly five minutes earlier than expected, Sir Asshole is lingering, he thinks, just beyond my peripheral vision. 

I see him.
He sees me.
I roll my eyes and audibly make  an "UCHH!" noise and turn my back. 

And I hesitated for a half second thinking, "Do I want to continue my chat with Jean?" And before I could formulate the thought in reply to myself, "No thanks," I turned heel and walked in the opposite direction from both of them. 

Next time (and there will be a next time, because fuck! I have to pass the security console several times a day), I will fumble but get this sentence out, the next time Jean attempts to bring up Sir Asshole:  "il y a des choses plus intéressantes à discuter." (There are more interesting things to discuss.)

And there ARE (more interesting things)!