Ma Bell: You Can't Touch That

Stalker

The reason that I did not want anyone to know that I had moved to my own place was simple.  The tall salesman in the office and I will use his name, Jim Green, bothered me.  He was a management employee and should have known better, but sexual harassment laws were not what they are today.  If I had been smart, I would have filed a complaint on him, a formal one, or filed a lawsuit.  But I was young and dumb.  I thought if I ignored him as best as I could that he would leave me alone.  I would have never complained to my supervisor because of the office dynamics that were in place.  And I would never have complained to the manager because he had known him.
forever and, well, he was a man, and men stick together.

Mr. Green, I refused to call him Jim, always took advantage of opportunities to be around me alone.  If I was in the backroom by myself, he would come back to make copies.  If he saw me in the hall, he would either follow me or stand in my path.  He was very sure of himself; he had obviously bothered young women before.  I couldn’t figure out why a sixty-something-year-old man thought that as young as I was that I would be interested in him.  And then I figured it out.  I was young, raising 2 young kids on my own.  Not that I ever told him that; the office gossip mongers did.  He assumed that I would be struggling, which I was, and that he could persuade me to come around him for his money.  Let me just say, he could have been the richest old fart in the world, and I would never have looked at him twice.

He would bump up against me if I made copies or stand so close that his clothing was actually rubbing against me.  I’m the kind of person that doesn’t like anyone in my personal space.  I’m still like that.  If I can stretch my arms out and touch you, you are too close to me.  I think over the years of dealing with unwanted advances, I am worse than I used to be.  I would actually take my work and leave the room to get away from him.  So his next trick was standing in the aisle next to my desk, talking loudly, which he did anyway, to Plain Jane, telling her about all of the wonderful things he had.  A new house, a new truck, a new boat.  It didn’t interest me.  He just made my skin crawl.  Wasn’t it time for him to retire yet?

His little games continued for a couple of months or so.  He was just one more reason to dislike that office.  There had been a young, attractive single mom in my office when I first started working there named Linda.  He was always messing with her.  I watched their eyes and thought that something was going on between them.  Shortly after I started working there, she was promoted.  She was now working in the Art department where France was as a management secretary.  She had to use our copier just like everyone else did.  I noticed that after she was promoted and he would try and flirt with her, she no longer returned the favor.  She got her reward and dumped him.  Now he was on me like stink on poop.  It might have worked with her, but not me.  I guess I am shallow, ugly men, hideous old men that were never handsome, didn’t attract me.  If you hurt my eyes to look at you, I wasn’t interested.  I know, shame on me, right?

One evening after work, I picked my kids up, and we went home.  When I started walking up the steps to my apartment, he was standing outside of my door.  When I saw him, I stopped dead in my tracks.  “What are you doing here?”  I turned around and told my boys to go back to the car; I followed them.  I guess he was totally shocked.  I made it all the way to my car before he cleared the stairs.  I told him to leave and climbed into my car.  The kids had already made it inside.  I started the engine, thank goodness it started.  He stuck his big ugly face in my window.  “I was going to take you and your kids out to eat.”  “I don’t think so.  I don’t know how you found out where I live, but if I ever see you around here again, I’m calling the police.”  I was so mad that my voice was shaking.  And my legs.  It was hard to keep my foot on the gas when I was backing up.  He started following me.  I drove to a fire station that was not far from my house, and there was a cop car parked there.  When I pulled in, he took off like a bat out of hell.

The cop came out and asked me if something was wrong.  I told him what had happened.  He told me to call the police dispatch next time, and they would deal with him.  I told him I didn’t have a phone yet.  He was a nice young cop. He said he was working the second shift and he would keep an eye on my apartment for a few days.  He said that the following month he would be working the graveyard shift and watch out for me.  His name was Karl.   He became a friend that really did watch out for me for a couple of years, even when I moved.

The next day when I went to work, I told Mary that I had to tell her something.  We took our stuff and went to the privacy of the back room.  When I told her what had happened, she was mad as hell.  She asked me how he got my address, and I told her he must have gotten it from Late Faye or went in my personnel records after hours and copied the address from my file.  I told her about the cop and what he had told me.  That didn’t change her humor.  She was a very upfront person, very blunt, even with me sometimes.  I never was sure because we didn’t talk about it again, but I think I remember her telling him off.  He was a stalker, and in this day and time, he would have been fired for what he did.  But back then, there were not really specific laws in place to protect women and girls.

When I went home that evening, my new friend, the cop, was parked at the end of my parking lot, hidden by other cars.  When he saw me, he got out of his car and came over to talk to me.  He said that Mr. Green had been there and had parked in the parking lot.  He was just sitting in his truck, so the cop drove up next to him and parked.  He told me that he got out, and Mr. Green started his truck.  He took his nightstick and rapped on his window, and told him to turn the engine off.  Then he asked for his identification and called it in for “wants and warrants.”  It came back clear.  He went back over to the truck and gave it back.  He told him that he knew what he had done the day before, and if he or any of the other cops saw him around there again, he would regret it.  He told him that my apartment would be watched from now on.  Karl said that Mr. Green was shaking like a leaf and promised that he would not come back.  I was so grateful to him that I gave him a big old kiss on the cheek.  I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of me.

The following morning, I told Mary what happened.  Mr. Green walked by us and picked up his pace when he saw us.  He didn’t even look at us.  He kept his distance from both of us after that.  I think that maybe he cleaned up his act a little after that.  Maybe.

Karl kept his promise about keeping an eye on me.  Days later, I was sound asleep.  It was at about 2a.m.  I heard a helicopter outside, and it was close.  I stumbled over to my window; I was going to peek out and see if something was wrong.  When I got to the window and started to peek out, the police helicopter hit his spotlight and lit me and my bedroom up brighter than daytime.  I looked down, and you could see through my nightgown like I didn’t have it on.  EEK.  I grabbed the blanket and put it around me.  I looked back out again, and they stayed there for a second and then flew away.

Karl had kept his word about keeping an eye out on me, but I wasn’t expecting to have the eye in the sky keep tabs on me.  It was a bit intimidating.  I was going to have to talk to him about that.  Another day, another time.  But when I laid back down, I had to smile a little because I did feel safe now.