2161 An Old Acquaintance

Monday, December 15, 2008

Something odd happened at the hotel Sunday morning. I saw someone I hadn't seen 40 years, and I hid from him.

I'm sure I'd written about what happened with him before, and spent some time searching for the post so I could link to it, but I can't find it. So I'll run through the short version.

It was early 1969. I was 24, and in a testing department with The Company. I had hands-on test time on third shift.

There was a developmentally disabled young man on the cleaning crew. He was very proud of working at The Company, and every morning when people arrived, he'd be in the main lobby vacuuming. He wanted to greet "his coworkers". Everybody who came in nodded and said hello, and he was so proud. Everybody thought he was sweet.

Well, forty years later I guess I can say he was sweet. Just a little misguided, which makes me feel guilty. I think nowadays I'd handle what happened differently, but at that time in my life I couldn't have done anything different.

What happened was that one night, about 2 am, after I'd left the machine floor, when there was no one else in the office area, he exposed himself to me.

And he was "working it."

It was so startling and unexpected, and so incredibly huge, that at first glance I thought he was holding a piece of vacuum hose.

On reflection, I suspect that he had often been told that what he had was pretty impressive, and that the ladies would be all over him, and I suspect that he was trying to impress me with the best thing he had to offer.

But back then, given recent events, it scared me. I ran to my office and locked the door, and sat there crying and trembling for an hour. I was afraid to try to leave and go home, because I might have to pass him. And I'd see him every night of the project. I couldn't face that. I wanted an escort out of the building, and I didn't want to come back while he was there.

Finally I called a manager on the machine floor, and told him what had happened. The young man admitted it, and his employment at The Company was terminated.

They told me to take the next three days off, which I did. The remainder of the test cycle was given to another. I spent the three days at home shaking and crying. I was sure it was all my fault, that I had somehow misled him to think it was ok. As usual, I took all the blame.

My first day back, my second-line manager came to my office. What he said messed me up worse than what had happened.

He told me that it was an unfortunate incident, but that of all the women in the building, they were all glad that it was me.

"Why?"

"Because most of these women would be completely freaked out. They'd make a big deal of it. It won't bother you so much. You'd take it in stride."

I thought about that a moment, about what it implied. That somehow stuff like this was my lot. That I was different from other women, and not in a nice way. It hurt. It confirmed that there was something wrong about me. That the wolves were right.

I tried. I said, "Actually, it did freak me out, a lot." I considered telling him how I felt, but the look of disbelief on his face dissuaded me. I was still in that mode where I gave people what they expected of me.

He asked how, and I gave him the answer I knew he wanted, "I'd never seen anything so big in my life. It was scary."

That probably made for some good stories among management.

A few weeks later, there was a big company awards luncheon, at the Holiday Inn. When we arrived, there he was, sweeping the parking lot, grinning and happily greeting all his old "coworkers".

I didn't get out of the car. I turned around and went back to the office.

Guess who I saw sweeping the Holiday Inn parking lot yesterday morning? It's forty years later, but I'd know that big hooked nose anywhere.

I didn't leave the room until I was sure he was no longer outside.
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