Okay. I feel like I need to share this, if only because I want to spread the notion that white-collar creepiness happens too. Also, I’ll put the moral of the story out front: Never, ever give your business card to a rando on the Metro. EVER.
So, I get on the Metro with my headphones on, and I sit next to a random man. He’s probably 55 years old, tall, fairly skinny, with breath that smelled like water after you’ve boiled hot dogs in it and let it sit for a couple days.
Anyway, I’m playing some game on my iPod, and he points at my knee and says something. I take my headphones off and say “excuse me?”
To which he replies: “I like the colors in your dress.”
Innocent enough, right? He goes on to start lecturing me about how dangerous iPods are because they distract you, and how his office — the DC attorney general’s office — has seen a lot more trouble with people who’ve been screwed around with because they had their music on too loud and weren’t paying attention.
At this point, I’m thinking he’s probably just a genuinely concerned older guy, yeah? So he tells me he might be able to help me out someday and gives me his business card, which says he’s an Assistant Attorney General for DC. It looks pretty legit, so although I’m a little sketched out, I smile (and try not to wince because his breath is downright toxic). He asks for my card. I hesitate, but I go ahead and give it to him. BIG. MISTAKE.
Conversation goes on a bit longer, and he gets progressively creepier. He starts by asking about my tattoos, then about how old I am. Next, he starts mumbling about how I have an “old soul” and how girls like me, you know, don’t need immature men. They need older guys, 40 or 50-year-olds, who can “do more for them” and “help them out — you know — connections.” He starts talking about all the fancy “adult engagements” he gets to go to and tells me how it would really be good for a “girl” like me.
He says some other kind of weird things, but here’s the kicker. He points to my feet, gets this bizarre facial expression, and says, “Your feet are really tan. Are your legs that tan?”
WHAT? NO, SIR. MY LEGS ARE NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!
He finally gets off at the Tenleytown stop, and I let out an audible sigh of relief.
I probably wouldn’t have submitted this Hollaback because this guy might just have poor social skills. Maybe he mistook my awkward smile for an invitation to chat me up. But I went home and Googled his name in conjunction with the Attorney General’s office. NOTHING. NADA. ZIP. In fact, the office has an organizational chart posted on line listing all the main positions. They DON’T EVEN HAVE any “Assistant Attorney Generals.”
The U.S. Attorney General’s office does, however, have an assistant with a similar name, but this guy didn’t even spell it right.
So yeah. I’m pretty sure this creep goes around giving out his FAKE card trying to make women feel comfortable enough not to slap them, then proceeds to creep, hoping they’ll bite. I’m just praying he doesn’t manage to track me down and serial kill me or something.
Submitted by Anonymous on 7/8/2010
Location: Red Line from Farragut North to Tenleytown
Time of Harassment: Evening Rush Hour (3:30P-7:30P)
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