2002-08-14 - 10:46 p.m.
Time: yesterday, 2:15 pm.
Place: My cubicle at Kryptonite University
The phone rings and I look at the caller ID to see if it is safe to answer. It is a campus number, so I pick up. Brendan, my faithful administrative assistant, is calling from the front hallway.
"Your stalker just entered the building." he says.
I gasp out a quick "thanks" and grabbing a stack of folders, rush out with what I hope looks like a purposeful (rather than desperate) walk. Not, unfortunately, before the guy I am avoiding cruises up to the front desk and catches a glimpse of me. "Hey"...he yells out. "I need to talk to you."
"I'm really busy right now...." my voice trails off as I dart into our back office, and hide behind the microfilm cabinet door, my heart pounding all out of proportion to the seriousness of this drama.
Now what will I do? He's probably going to wait for me. I slip into another office where I am unlikely to be seen and start shuffling through some stacks of files, thinking maybe if I can just stay away long enough he will give up and leave. But in a few minutes one of my coworkers walks by and says "There you are. Do you know some guy named Steve is looking for you?"
"Yes!....That's why I am IN HERE!" And I explain to her that Steve is interested in me all out of proportion to the quality of my academic advice. In fact he has called and dropped in far too many times since he first discovered me last fall. She offers to go out and tell him that I have gone to a meeting and will probably be gone a long time. Oh, thank you.
I wait a while longer and then return to my desk. The coast is clear.... for now.
When this guy walked into my cubicle last fall, looking to go back to school, I hadn't seen him or even thought about him for twenty-five years. If I had thought about him, it would have been only to hope that I never encountered him again, because he was a major druggie as well as just an arrogant jerk back in the 70s when we were in college together. I recognized him but kept hoping he wouldn't recognize me. No such luck-- he remembered me, too. And we had to have a conversation about all the people we used to know back in Cornville. Or should I say, he had to tell me about all the losers I was happy to leave behind when I grew up and got a life. I could tell by looking at him that nothing much had changed. He still had long black, stringy hair and a mustache, and was dressed in a shiny, worst-of-the-eighties thrift store suit, looking kind of like the stoned Yanni of the homeless set.
And in my role as counselor, as helpful employee of the university, I was nice, even friendly in a reserved sort of way. I politely listened as he bragged at length about what a wonderful musician he was, and what a fabulous life he was having. I thought I would just take care of his paperwork and academic questions, and then send him on his way. I thought it would all be over soon. But I should have known better. You don't set cans of tuna out to get rid of the stray cats.
And weirdly, I seem to see him everywhere: Standing on the sidewalk as I drive by.... In a car next to me on the highway.... and every time I see him he stares at me like the cogs of his corroded brain are formulating a plan. He's coming to me with every little lame question he can dream up. He is calling me. Leaving me little notes. Asking me personal questions.
And I am hiding and dodging him. Feeling a bit like a caged animal, spending my days in a public office where anybody can come in at any time and make me deal with them. Unless I am both assertive and clever enough to figure out how to tell him to get lost in a way that won't get me into trouble. I am perfectly capable of telling people to get lost, but it is a little trickier when the stalker is part of the population I am supposed to be "serving."
I'm practicing....."Look Steve, you seem to have the mistaken idea that we are friends...."
Later, he tricks me into taking his call by calling me from the phone of one of the advisors across campus. And makes me deal with his question, which she could have handled.
Let's hope he's not planning another visit. This week at least, I am very very very very busy. Just ask anybody. I have a secret agent in the hallway. And there is always the microfilm cabinet.
�
