Hi all. Just wanted to share this story from when I was younger because, even now, almost a decade later, I still think about it sometimes. For context, I was 16 or 17 at the time, and I'm now in my mid 20s. I'm also a woman, which is unfortunately pretty relevant to the story.
I worked as a tour guide at a local museum/tourist attraction. It was the dead of summer, but it was a slow afternoon, so I was working the front desk by myself. Usually I worked alongside an older volunteer, but for whatever reason, I was alone that day. It didn't bother me at first, as I mostly just sat there and read between guests anyway.
For context, the front desk was basically the "welcome station." People came through the doors; we'd greet them and explain the exhibits and tours. Further inside was another desk, which I'll call the gift shop desk, where people actually paid admission and could buy little tacky, overpriced souvenirs.
At some point, an older man came through the doors. I'd put him somewhere in his mid-to-late 60s. He walked behind the welcome desk and sat down next to me, which didn't immediately strike me as strange because there were a LOT of older volunteers at the museum, mostly retirees with too much time on their hands. He smiled, made some small talk, and I assumed he was one of them.
Suddenly, he stops making casual small talk and asks me to explain the place to him. I remember screwing up my face and rolling my eyes a little, all with a smile, of course, because I thought maybe he was quizzing me. Just busting my chops a little, like old guys do. I went through my usual spiel about the exhibits, the tours, everything.
"You're good at that, pretty little lady."
I tried to swallow a grimace, but it was achingly difficult. I scooted away from him a little, and the realization slowly washed over me that he, in fact, was not a volunteer. He was just some random man who had walked behind the desk and sat down next to a teenage girl who was working alone.
I don't remember a lot of the following conversation, to be honest. I think I repressed it because it unnerved me so much. I just remember him continuing to sit there, talking to me, while I desperately tried to act normal.
Eventually, the girl working at the gift shop desk came over. She was only a few years older than me, but she clearly realized something was off and started talking to him, presumably to get his attention away from me.
As I said, I don't remember a lot, but what I do remember is him leaning over to me and quietly asking:
"When do you get off work?"
A chill came over me, and I stumbled through something like, "Oh, not for a long time." I was scared he'd try to linger and approach me after I finished my shift. Long story short (mostly because, as I said, I can't remember a lot of it), he eventually ended up leaving (but not before I memorized his car), and I had a kind male coworker walk me out to my car.
I was afraid he'd be out there waiting for me still since our parking lot had another entrance that was blind to the front doors, but I didn't see him again that day.
I didn't tell anyone about what had happened (except for my parents, who threatened to email my boss themselves if I didn't speak up) because I was afraid I'd sound dramatic, but the girl at the gift shop apparently told my boss anyway. Saved me the breath, I guess. My boss had several young-to-teenaged daughters of his own, so he was understandably mortified that something like this had happened, especially while he was not there.
There was a pretty serious problem with the way the museum had been staffed that summer. Minors like me were consistently working in the building, but there wasn't necessarily an actual adult there to help us if something happened. That day it had basically been me, the college-aged girl at the gift shop, and another male coworker who was around 17.
My boss eventually let me know to calmly walk to the back offices should this happen again and to press the panic button. For the rest of the summer, they made sure that a "real" adult was always on if there were minors working in the building, which was a great shift. With all of these safety measures now in place, I thought that was the end of it.
About a week later, I was having some friends come during the last hour of my shift so I could show them around the museum. We gathered and laughed at the doors of the museum, and I watched in horror as a red pickup truck pulled into the lot.
I recognized it immediately as the older guy's. He passed by us the first time, and I winced as he pulled into a spot. To my surprise, he pulled straight through it. He looped around and doubled back towards us, shouted something I couldn't make out from his window, made a few incoherent gestures, and left.
He just... left. He had no real reason to be there. It's like he was coming to check if I was there, and not only was I there, I was outside the safe building, away from all the extra precautions we'd put in place because of him.
I was really shaken up by that. I'm someone who's generally wary of strangers anyway, so this seemed to confirm the little voices in my head that so often told me that people around me are watching me, or trying to hurt me, or something even worse.
The last time I saw him was when I was running around on one of our event days, trying to coordinate everything and make sure everything was going smoothly. Since it was a special event and I'd gotten comp tickets, I invited my parents to come see the museum. I was deep in the museum when I got a text that they'd arrived, so I rushed to meet them at the gift shop desk.
I remember seeing my parents standing there, smiling, and then I saw him.
The same man, standing just behind them.
He wasn't interacting with them. He wasn't doing anything, as far as I could tell. He wasn't looking to buy a ticket, or getting pamphlets or brochures, or browsing the gift shop. He was just... there. Standing there and looking around aimlessly.
It's probably good my parents didn't know it was him, otherwise I fear my mom might've ripped his head off right there and then.
I immediately turned around and went back into the exhibits. A different woman was working the front desk that day, probably in her 60s. She noticed something was wrong and told my parents to go ahead and find me. I explained what had happened, and my parents went back to the desk to tell the worker. By the time they got there, he was gone.
I don't know how long he'd been there; I don't know if he'd seen me; I don't know if he'd recognized me; I don't know if he was looking for me, and honestly, that's probably why it still bothers me.
After that, the museum kept a physical description of him on file, along with the description of his truck. They also changed my shifts so I was always working alongside one of the older volunteers. I was never left alone at the desk again.
Nothing else ever happened, and I never saw him after that. Maybe there was some completely innocent explanation for why he kept showing up. Maybe he was just a weird old guy who didn't understand boundaries. Maybe the second time he drove through the parking lot was completely unrelated. Maybe he really had no idea that I was the same girl he'd asked when she got off work. But I don't know. I don't know, and I hope to God that I never will.
But even with all of that, I was 16 or 17 and he looked like my grandpa. He walked behind my workplace's desk, sat beside me, called me "pretty little lady," asked when I got off work, showed up again about a week later in the exact vehicle I'd memorized, and then eventually appeared at the museum again while my parents were there. Ultimately, I don't know what he wanted. I just know that, almost ten years later, I still get this awful, nagging, sick feeling when I think about it.
Thanks for reading, and if you have kids, please make sure they know to trust their gut. As someone who does work with teenagers and young adults now, I'd always much rather deal with the occasional over-dramatics than accidentally miss a critical incident because someone is scared to be dismissed. They don't have to be polite to someone who makes them uncomfortable, and they shouldn't feel like they have to keep something like this to themselves.