Creepy stalker guy
Jan. 26th, 2014 08:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lizbeeSo yesterday I had a bit of a scary experience, and I'm writing it out here in detail for future reference. Which is to say, I transcribe a lot of criminal courts these days; you can't help but hope you'd have a clear memory if you're in the witness box.
Yesterday was a pretty average day -- I had brunch with my flatmates, and caught up with ex-flatmate C; I made a blog post; I spent several hours reading. Late in the afternoon, I think just after 5, I remembered that I needed to pick up a couple of prescriptions, and also I was out of bread. Since I was leaving the house anyway, I decided to go to the pool as well, seeing as how, you know, I'm meant to go every day. I thought about cycling, but I'm pretty sure I have a slow leak in my front tyre, so I decided to take the tram.
I walked out to the corner of Sydney and Moreland Rds to take the 19 up Sydney Rd. When I reached the tram stop, the man was already there. We waited for a few minutes.
I could feel the guy watching me, but I put it down to that self-consciousness you pick up in high school, "Everyone is secretly watching you and laughing at you." Which is to say, I dismissed it. I get that feeling a lot, and 99 times out of 100, nothing happens.
The tram was nearly empty when it pulled up, but the guy took the seat opposite mine. Well, I thought, that happens. I thought about complaining to Twitter, but if I whinged online every time I hit a lavaballer or a "my bag has its own ticket and needs this seat" person, I'd be ... okay, even more boring than I am. I didn't move because ... well, it seemed like an overreaction to a slight discourtesy.
Nevertheless, I kept feeling his eyes on me. He was wearing dark sunglasses, so I couldn't be sure, but I had that feeling. And he kept shifting so he was sitting closer and closer to me.
I found myself thinking, I'm glad I'm not going home, so he won't know where I live. Then I wondered why I was thinking that, and I gave him a slightly closer look.
At first glance, he looked like any young Brunswick guy. The full beard said "hipster", but his jeans and T-shirt said "hipster's day off". But now he was close enough that I could tell he smelled strongly of BO, which didn't fit with my original impression.
We arrived at my stop and I disembarked. Alone, I thought, but then I saw our reflections in a shop window. He was following me, staying in my blind spot.
Well, I thought, still trying to be dismissive, maybe he just wants a pizza. If he follows me into the chemist, that's when I'll start freaking out.
Nevertheless, I switched my music off at last, but kept my earbuds in.
He followed me into the chemist. I could feel him behind me, and glimpse him out of the corner of my eye.
Down to the back counter I went. I was very nervous all of a sudden, fumbling through my many prescription folders, dropping one as I went.
"Can I help you?" the pharmacist asked us.
"Nah, mate," said the guy. He didn't sound slurred, he didn't have an accent.
He knelt down behind me as I put in my scripts, like he was browsing something on a lower shelf. I couldn't see his face. I wanted to say something to the pharmacist, but he was a very young guy, and shorter than I am.
Usually I browse nail polishes while my prescriptions are being prepared, but I didn't want to get trapped in a narrow aisle with my "friend". So I waited at the counter, sitting in one of the chairs. My friend joined me, but he only sat for a few moments. Then he was up again, pretending to browse. He kept his back to me, crouching again, but I sensed that he was paying attention to my movements.
(I found myself wondering how I knew, and aside from instinct, it's also a behaviour I practised when I worked in retail, casually re-arranging books while I kept an eye on potential shoplifters.)
It was at this point that I tweeted about being followed by a creepy dude, and also textedweaver to ask if she could pick me up. I thought about just going to the pool, as originally planned, but it seemed likely at that time that my friend would just pay his money and follow me in.
The pharmacist called my name to say my prescriptions were ready. I instantly wished he hadn't, but too late now. I was shaking as I took them down to the counter. Weaves texted me to say she was ten minutes away. It took me three goes to swipe my card, but I don't think anyone thought I was acting strangely. My companion was well in my personal space, but still in my blind spot. I tried to watch him surreptitiously, and noticed that his Nike sneakers were old and full of holes.
I stayed out the front of the chemist, in full view of the security guard. Twitter was providing sensible advice, like "stay in public" and "tell the pharmacist or security guard". I was hesitant to take the latter suggestion, because I was quite afraid that if I said something, the guy would kick off. Not become violent, necessarily, but I have an irrational fear of being yelled at.
The guy stayed close as I waited for Weaves. At one point, I pulled out my phone and tried to take a picture of his face -- but when I flipped the camera around, he was looking straight at me.
Now, here's the thing. I was afraid of this guy, but so far, everything he had done seemed very subjective. I was picturing a court room, and defence counsel saying, "What evidence did you really have that he was watching you? Haven't you just targeted this poor man who happened to have errands to run in the same area as you?" I felt like, if I said anything, or confronted this guy, that would be his response.
Nevertheless, he was getting further and further into my personal space. I gave up and went inside to tell the security guard I was being hassled. The guy followed me, and the guard stepped away to make space for him. I realised that my best bet was to wait for Weaves. The guy followed me out again, now conspicuously reading the chemist's catalogue.
When Weaves arrived, she pulled into the curb, and I started walking towards the car. In the corner of my eye, I could see him following me. I picked up my pace. He matched me. I nearly threw myself into the car, and he started to reach for the handle. Weaves threw the locks, and as she pulled out into traffic again, the guy started screaming incoherently into his catalogue. Not words, just a sound of desperate frustration.
Next stop: the police station. Where a nice officer took notes of the event, said I'd done the right thing, and to call 000 if he bothers me again. Not much they can do in the meantime, since I had left and he had probably moved on, but at least there's a record.
My tweets, including a picture of the guy.
Full description:
- mid-twenties
- taller than me, but probably less than average height for a male
- thin, with slightly hunched shoulders
- white
- full beard, dark
- grey cap, possibly with some kind of camouflage pattern
- hazel eyes
- grey t-shirt
- blue jeans
- grey Nike sneakers with holes
- blue and black Fitness First backpack
- smelled of BO
- maybe not clean? I think his hands might have been dirty. Or his nails.
Possibly mentally ill or drug-affected -- or both! But seemed quite in control of his actions -- he was very careful to keep in my blind spot, adopting poses that would hide his face.
Why I paid attention to him:
- he seemed to be paying attention to me
- the smell of BO clashed with his neat appearance
- likewise, he seemed neatly dressed until I noticed his shoes
So here, I'd like to thank Internet Feminism for making me pay attention when guys do things like sit near you on an empty tram; Gavin de Becker for The Gift of Fear, which encouraged me to pay attention to my instincts and fear response; my work, for exposing me to way too many creeps; my love for true crime, for making me paranoid.
I should say, also, that after Jill Meagher was abducted and murdered a few blocks from my house in 2012, I've been way more aware of creepsters in my neighbourhood. Most of the time I walk around without fear, but I pay attention, as I expect most women do, to things and people that don't fit.
FINALLY, I passed a pleasant evening watching Justice League: War and Star Trek: Voyager (Voyager was objectively better, btw -- I just mention that because it's so rarely true), and my only nightmares last night were about spiders.
Yesterday was a pretty average day -- I had brunch with my flatmates, and caught up with ex-flatmate C; I made a blog post; I spent several hours reading. Late in the afternoon, I think just after 5, I remembered that I needed to pick up a couple of prescriptions, and also I was out of bread. Since I was leaving the house anyway, I decided to go to the pool as well, seeing as how, you know, I'm meant to go every day. I thought about cycling, but I'm pretty sure I have a slow leak in my front tyre, so I decided to take the tram.
I walked out to the corner of Sydney and Moreland Rds to take the 19 up Sydney Rd. When I reached the tram stop, the man was already there. We waited for a few minutes.
I could feel the guy watching me, but I put it down to that self-consciousness you pick up in high school, "Everyone is secretly watching you and laughing at you." Which is to say, I dismissed it. I get that feeling a lot, and 99 times out of 100, nothing happens.
The tram was nearly empty when it pulled up, but the guy took the seat opposite mine. Well, I thought, that happens. I thought about complaining to Twitter, but if I whinged online every time I hit a lavaballer or a "my bag has its own ticket and needs this seat" person, I'd be ... okay, even more boring than I am. I didn't move because ... well, it seemed like an overreaction to a slight discourtesy.
Nevertheless, I kept feeling his eyes on me. He was wearing dark sunglasses, so I couldn't be sure, but I had that feeling. And he kept shifting so he was sitting closer and closer to me.
I found myself thinking, I'm glad I'm not going home, so he won't know where I live. Then I wondered why I was thinking that, and I gave him a slightly closer look.
At first glance, he looked like any young Brunswick guy. The full beard said "hipster", but his jeans and T-shirt said "hipster's day off". But now he was close enough that I could tell he smelled strongly of BO, which didn't fit with my original impression.
We arrived at my stop and I disembarked. Alone, I thought, but then I saw our reflections in a shop window. He was following me, staying in my blind spot.
Well, I thought, still trying to be dismissive, maybe he just wants a pizza. If he follows me into the chemist, that's when I'll start freaking out.
Nevertheless, I switched my music off at last, but kept my earbuds in.
He followed me into the chemist. I could feel him behind me, and glimpse him out of the corner of my eye.
Down to the back counter I went. I was very nervous all of a sudden, fumbling through my many prescription folders, dropping one as I went.
"Can I help you?" the pharmacist asked us.
"Nah, mate," said the guy. He didn't sound slurred, he didn't have an accent.
He knelt down behind me as I put in my scripts, like he was browsing something on a lower shelf. I couldn't see his face. I wanted to say something to the pharmacist, but he was a very young guy, and shorter than I am.
Usually I browse nail polishes while my prescriptions are being prepared, but I didn't want to get trapped in a narrow aisle with my "friend". So I waited at the counter, sitting in one of the chairs. My friend joined me, but he only sat for a few moments. Then he was up again, pretending to browse. He kept his back to me, crouching again, but I sensed that he was paying attention to my movements.
(I found myself wondering how I knew, and aside from instinct, it's also a behaviour I practised when I worked in retail, casually re-arranging books while I kept an eye on potential shoplifters.)
It was at this point that I tweeted about being followed by a creepy dude, and also texted
weaver to ask if she could pick me up. I thought about just going to the pool, as originally planned, but it seemed likely at that time that my friend would just pay his money and follow me in. The pharmacist called my name to say my prescriptions were ready. I instantly wished he hadn't, but too late now. I was shaking as I took them down to the counter. Weaves texted me to say she was ten minutes away. It took me three goes to swipe my card, but I don't think anyone thought I was acting strangely. My companion was well in my personal space, but still in my blind spot. I tried to watch him surreptitiously, and noticed that his Nike sneakers were old and full of holes.
I stayed out the front of the chemist, in full view of the security guard. Twitter was providing sensible advice, like "stay in public" and "tell the pharmacist or security guard". I was hesitant to take the latter suggestion, because I was quite afraid that if I said something, the guy would kick off. Not become violent, necessarily, but I have an irrational fear of being yelled at.
The guy stayed close as I waited for Weaves. At one point, I pulled out my phone and tried to take a picture of his face -- but when I flipped the camera around, he was looking straight at me.
Now, here's the thing. I was afraid of this guy, but so far, everything he had done seemed very subjective. I was picturing a court room, and defence counsel saying, "What evidence did you really have that he was watching you? Haven't you just targeted this poor man who happened to have errands to run in the same area as you?" I felt like, if I said anything, or confronted this guy, that would be his response.
Nevertheless, he was getting further and further into my personal space. I gave up and went inside to tell the security guard I was being hassled. The guy followed me, and the guard stepped away to make space for him. I realised that my best bet was to wait for Weaves. The guy followed me out again, now conspicuously reading the chemist's catalogue.
When Weaves arrived, she pulled into the curb, and I started walking towards the car. In the corner of my eye, I could see him following me. I picked up my pace. He matched me. I nearly threw myself into the car, and he started to reach for the handle. Weaves threw the locks, and as she pulled out into traffic again, the guy started screaming incoherently into his catalogue. Not words, just a sound of desperate frustration.
Next stop: the police station. Where a nice officer took notes of the event, said I'd done the right thing, and to call 000 if he bothers me again. Not much they can do in the meantime, since I had left and he had probably moved on, but at least there's a record.
My tweets, including a picture of the guy.
Full description:
- mid-twenties
- taller than me, but probably less than average height for a male
- thin, with slightly hunched shoulders
- white
- full beard, dark
- grey cap, possibly with some kind of camouflage pattern
- hazel eyes
- grey t-shirt
- blue jeans
- grey Nike sneakers with holes
- blue and black Fitness First backpack
- smelled of BO
- maybe not clean? I think his hands might have been dirty. Or his nails.
Possibly mentally ill or drug-affected -- or both! But seemed quite in control of his actions -- he was very careful to keep in my blind spot, adopting poses that would hide his face.
Why I paid attention to him:
- he seemed to be paying attention to me
- the smell of BO clashed with his neat appearance
- likewise, he seemed neatly dressed until I noticed his shoes
So here, I'd like to thank Internet Feminism for making me pay attention when guys do things like sit near you on an empty tram; Gavin de Becker for The Gift of Fear, which encouraged me to pay attention to my instincts and fear response; my work, for exposing me to way too many creeps; my love for true crime, for making me paranoid.
I should say, also, that after Jill Meagher was abducted and murdered a few blocks from my house in 2012, I've been way more aware of creepsters in my neighbourhood. Most of the time I walk around without fear, but I pay attention, as I expect most women do, to things and people that don't fit.
FINALLY, I passed a pleasant evening watching Justice League: War and Star Trek: Voyager (Voyager was objectively better, btw -- I just mention that because it's so rarely true), and my only nightmares last night were about spiders.
no subject
Date: 2014-01-25 10:51 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2014-01-25 11:26 pm (UTC)feed creeps to the Blargg!
Date: 2014-01-25 11:35 pm (UTC)Echoing being glad you're okay!
Re: feed creeps to the Blargg!
Date: 2014-01-25 11:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-25 11:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-26 12:31 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2014-01-26 02:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-26 01:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-26 01:35 am (UTC)You dealt with that really well, and I'm glad you're ok! I hope this creep doesn't cast too much of a pall over going to the pool etc in future.
no subject
Date: 2014-01-26 02:37 am (UTC)Can you provide a link to the Captain Awkward pages you mention?
no subject
Date: 2014-01-26 02:44 am (UTC)(That's just what I got from searching "gift of fear". In the comments to one of the more recent entries, you'll also find a slightly headdesky discussion where a commenter tells her to stop recommending it because the commenter finds its existence triggery.)
no subject
Date: 2014-01-26 05:16 am (UTC)btw, do you carry a personal alarm?
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Date: 2014-01-26 05:21 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2014-01-26 03:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-26 01:11 pm (UTC)But even if he had, by the time we reached the police station he would have been long gone from there. I would have liked it if they'd gone down sirens blazing, but it would have been impractical - and we were clearly well away and safe by that point.
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Date: 2014-01-26 08:39 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2014-01-26 08:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-26 01:08 pm (UTC)I AM EXTREMELY GLAD YOU ARE OKAY AND I HOPE YOUR SHAKENNESS HAS SUBSIDED D:
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Date: 2014-01-26 04:51 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you're okay and were clever and kept your head.
no subject
Date: 2014-01-26 05:39 pm (UTC)My two stalking experiences were with people I knew before they stalked me, but I have had my share of creepers follow me around. No one seems to give a crap or realize it's scary. And there was the time the obviously mentally incapacitated guy played with my hair and face for a half an hour while I sat there going shit, how do I get away, and his shitty handler laughed.
The Gift of Fear is a wonderful book. I had the sad experience of having read it after I had learned by experience what it had to say, but I can definitely say everybody needs to read that book.
no subject
Date: 2014-01-26 09:59 pm (UTC)Seconding the idea of writing to that company about their security guard training.
no subject
Date: 2014-01-27 08:34 pm (UTC)That had to be a really horrifying experience. I am so glad nothing worse happened -- what happened was bad enough.
no subject
Date: 2014-01-29 12:37 am (UTC)I already have an abiding love for true crime, and once I got a couple of pages through the first chapter of The Gift of Fear I'm hooked. Thank you for putting your experience down here - you are the reason I'm reading this amazing book.
And 'go you' for rising to the occasion this day. :) xx
no subject
Date: 2014-01-29 03:13 pm (UTC)And thank you for reminding me that Captain Awkward exists, I'd forgotten. :~)
no subject
Date: 2014-03-08 06:19 pm (UTC)