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[Yesterday,]
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Two women tried to cash a fake check drawn on my checking account.
So.
Today,
I had to close my account, open a new one, and change all my god-dammed personal information associated with all my accounts -- credit cards, student loans, utilities.
A couple weeks ago, a representative from one of my credit cards called, "concerned" because my monthly payment hadn't been received. I followed up with the bank -- because I *did* send the check -- and nothing suspicious was in the air.
Yesterday, two black women tried to cash a check -- one printed from Office Depot or Staples or whatever -- via the drive-thru. It had my information on it, and because the women did not have Provident accounts, the teller told them they had to come inside to do their business. The teller took the check, picked up the phone to confirm that I wrote it, and the women snatched the check and left, saying they were going elsewhere. These women -- or someone associated with them -- most likely stole my bill from my mailbox and created checks using a program or the services at some copy center or office supply store.
[So, these fuckers have two possible felonies: mail fraud and forgery. That is, if they get caught.]
After learning of this, I checked my online account and noticed that a check for $150 dollars cleared on the 23rd -- an unnumbered check -- which I did not write (a check, oddly enough, which caused a couple items to bounce). That check is currently being investigated and the money and fees will be reimbursed to me via my new checking account.
Joy.
So, to recap June:
1) Ted aka "The Stalker" sends me into a fit of paranoia and anger.
2) Stu and Mike and their stupid vintage clothing store screw me.
3) My neighborhood has, yet again, proved to be a ghetto breeding ground for crime, despite the nicely manicured hedges.
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[If you are feeling kind . . .]
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OR,
Consider purchasing a poster from AllPosters via my links here or here.
Why? because I was screwed over with a freelance project, the details of which I will "make public" soon after I file a report with the Better Business Bureau. |
[An inbox treat thanks to Joe:]
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subject: a true story of poop
My poor friend Lisa B*, who is a librarian in Clermont County, had to close the library an hour early last night because a little kid, in the middle of the children's library, took off his pants, pooped, and dragged his feet all through it, all over everything! |
[Stalker update, again]
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As of early this afternoon, my mom thought Ted quit calling. She was certain.
I left for the store after our brief conversation to purchase spaghetti fixins and Starbucks cappucino ice-cream (see, my brother just proposed to his girlfriend -- the one with two children, by two baby daddies, whom I've yet to mention because I thought she was just a fad, and I needed the ice-cream as a result).
I came back from the store, sauce, Merlot, garlic bread, and dessert in hand: Mom left two voice mail messages.
She, in short, said:
1) Ted called (5:11pm); I warned him -- cease your contact with me and my daughter via phone and letters.
2) Ted called again (5:17pm); Call me when you get home.
I phoned Mom and told her to call the cops. She, as she explained the events of the afternoon, let the second call go; it rang and rang and rang (and she did not answer (why should she? )-- Ted is a persistent bastard, who clearly does not understand how to "cease." In fact, he stuttered in shock -- "what? what? what?" -- after my mom picked up the first call and told him to "stop").
After finishing our convo, Mom called the cops and filed a report; the responding officer told her that he would contact Ted about the situation at hand.
If, the officer told her (she reported this to me in, yet another phone call), that if Ted continued to contact either of us, we would have to go to court and do the whole restraining order thing. My mother should be contacted either tonight or tomorrow with the results of the officer's contact with Ted.
I have yet to hear from her.
Tomorrow, I will call Debbie at UC, give her an update, and ask for her help. I want to know who Ted's current English instructor is, so that I can contact him or her and ask of Ted's overall current "character" -- whether he is acting weirder than normal. Then again, Ted might not be in Summer classes. And, UC is on a break this week, I believe.
Oh fiddlesticks.
Debbie might not be in the office, and there will be no English teacher associated with Ted for at least a week (perhaps longer if he's not registered for Summer session). Fuck the Summer hiatus. |
[Stalker, part deux]
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For all of you folks curious about the stalking situation, here is an update.
Friday afternoon, while at work, I called Raymond Walters College about this student (Ted), who has been trying desperately to contact me and my family via letters and countless phone calls. I spoke briefly to the secretary in the Dean's office, who then transferred me to Debbie (Secretary for English, Communications, and Behavioral Science Departments) -- the only person on campus who would have direct access to my address and phone number. Here is what she told me. Back in April this Ted character attempted to get my address from Registration, the Dean's Office, and from her. He had a letter to mail to me, and Debbie -- along with everyone else he spoke to -- told him that confidential information could not be given to students (Apparently, he saw himself as an exception to this rule, as he tried every resource in the college). Debbie, however, offered to mail out the envelope for him. So she addressed it and mailed it out, without disclosing my information. So, with that known, I immediately felt much relief -- the lengthy letter I received in late April was addressed and sent not by Ted, but by a secretary.
Debbie also told me that the situation with this student was, in fact, so odd, that she kept the memo concerning this student and his letter, just in case something would happen (Granted, I would have liked to have received a phone call about this -- considering for all she knew, my life could have been in peril -- but, since I can't do anything about that now, I will probably call Debbie back this week and suggest that such a measure become protocol in future events like this one).
I did receive a letter. It was several pages. I did not read it, and I either tossed it or tucked under a huge stack of papers. I remember, during this time, I was furiously looking for full time work, and my apartment was scattered with newspapers, resume drafts, and letters. So, it could have been lost in the shuffle. I recall, however, noticing that the address handwriting was very different than the handwriting in the letter -- so, perhaps, this quelled my concern (if any) at the time. Besides, I had enough to deal with at that particular moment . . .
So, I forgot about the letter, about Ted, and I definitely put Ray's Place in the past after landing my new job until this past Thursday (actually, three weeks ago, I was reminded of a campus parking ticket that supposedly was nixed, but that's another story), when my mom called me. She received a letter in the mail from Ted, in which he told my mother about how great of a teacher I was and how I "brought out the best in him" and how I did my job even when I had a cold or when the students were unappreciative and lazy and how I pushed forward even after I had decided not return the following academic term. Then, my mother revealed that this person had been calling -- sometimes twice a day -- for the last month or longer. See, when someone calls for me at my parents', the family member answering the call says, "She doesn't live here," and does not provide further information. Generally, people who ask for me at the 'rents are telemarketers; any friend or person of real importance is going to know my current info, right?
What my parents need to do, however, is respond with "Wrong Number." End of story. And this is the lesson we have learned.
See, when my mom told Ted (the supposed telemarketer) that I didn't live with them, this told him -- a man who was most likely going through the phone-book, calling all folks with my last name -- that he had reached my old place of residence. And since making this discovery, he has called countless times, each call revealed by caller id and not answered by my mom, dad, or brother.
After speaking with my mom, I thought about the situation, called her back, and told her not to discard the letter. She was already considering the possibility of filing criminal charges and knew not to toss it. She was also concerned about the possibility of this guy knowing my address. Of course, I was too. My father, assured me that he'd have a firearm for me, and that if Ted came over to his house he would shoot him. No. That if the guy came over to his house, he'd invite him in for a beer, then shoot him. Because, we all know, that the murderer or rapist or psycho or burglar needs to be inside your house when you pull the trigger.
On to Friday. After I called Raymond Walters and spoke to Debbie, I called the police only to be told that criminal charges (despite the fact that this guy is clearly harassing us, whether he realizes it or not) can only be filed if my mom tells him "Do not call here" and he calls back or writes again. Ted called again -- twice on Friday -- but no one was home to take the call. And he didn't call at all yesterday. My mom was happy, yes: "Perhaps he quit trying." Yes, perhaps he quit trying to reach them or to reach me via them. Perhaps he's going to fork over the ten bucks to get an unlisted address and number (my address and number) revealed via BMV records or an online service. Or, perhaps, he'll head down to the courthouse and look up my name and see my recent speeding ticket, which will reveal where I live. Great. Just great. So, until he calls or writes or shows up and I, or my mother or father or brother, can tell him "Please cease your calling and writing (or visiting!)," I cannot do a damn thing.
I guess I can do a damn thing. I do have Ted's address and number. I could call him from a pay-phone and tell him to stop contacting me or write him and tell him the same. But that might entice him further. Or, I could just send someone to his house and offer a good old fashioned threat in form of some big menacing thugs with baseball bats. We'll see. More on this later. |
[I would just like to note that:]
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A) I am being stalked by a former student;
and
B) The song from "Pimp My Ride" is on "repeat" in my head.
Thank you.
And Have a Swell Day. |
[The Idiot Brigade]
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EDIT: As if this city has a moron shortage . . . |
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