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Green Room - Week 18 - Day 3
Mar. 1st, 2019 04:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jenwithapenSo! Yesterday was all quiet on the Western Front, which could mean the dice roll either way. All's good or all's not!
I figured, Gary brings the funny. The extremely clever. Today, I figured I'd bring you a story, a real world story. It's not one I've told to many people, and I've never told it in a journaling community, so here goes! Oh, one last detail, not only is every bit of this true, I know because it happened to me.
There was a time before I gave up the academic world to become a full time writer, but before all of that, I was a wireless data consultant working for several Fortune 500s in Illinois, Wisconsin, and Indiana (with occasional stops in Kentucky =D).
I got so lucky a few years out of high school (1997). I applied for a job at a brand new ISP opening in our area, and the growth potential was staggering, so I kind of knew their trajectory. Going back a few years (1994-1995), I got even luckier. I was in the laundry room of my dorm, one night, when my Turkish friend, Melis, walked in and asked if I'd ever used a computer. I had, but it's not like we had one at home, growing up. If we didn't have a woefully underfunded computer lab in my high school, I probably never would have seen the thing! Anyway, long story short (too late!), Melis took me in, logged me on, and introduced me to email, to message boards, but even more exciting to me... IRC.
Now, we're back in basically the computer stone ages. IRC, otherwise known as Internet Relay Chat, operated on a pre-Windows operating system which many of you probably know-- UNIX. And not only did IRC and UNIX open up a bazillion opportunities (access to tech geeks, infinite knowledge, and finally.. the ability to not only take apart a computer physically and put it back together (back when everything was done by dip switches, dear God!), but I learned to master a UNIX OS with near precision.
I'm including all those details to say that beyond becoming close friends with a lot of BOFH's (Bastard Operators From Hell), I learned to hack. I learned to code. I learned everything I could absorb about a world that seemed unlimited. An infinite scope. So, when I stepped up to that podium in front of three friendly, yet super reserved men, that luck paid out. They hired me on the spot.
My mentor, Troy, he and his brother worked for Sun Microsystems. His brother was at Sun almost full time, but the ISP was Troy's baby, and the two of us were attached at the hip. Everything I hadn't already picked up, I learned from him. He taught me to route (and in 1997 I was the first woman to ever pass Cisco's CNDC and CCDE), how to install equipment, and how to crawl around on my belly in the dirt with CAT-3 and wire up infrastructure. In the end, there wasn't anything I learned with Troy that I didn't end up using.
Fast forward, again, back to 1997. I'd left the ISP, I wanted more and I also wanted to be in the same city as my husband. That didn't mean I didn't travel back and forth a lot. In the summer of 1997, I was driving an hour to work (from Champaign to Bloomington (IL)) and hour back. Rough weather sometimes, but otherwise it was ok. Despite billing out in the hundreds, as most consultants will tell you is one of consulting's best kept secrets, I didn't even earn half of it. A lot of what I made went into the gas tank, and it was definitely taking a toll on my car.
I was halfway between Champaign and Bloomington on a terrible winter's day. I had a Nokia (like a lot of us back then), but it was dead, and a car that had just totally crapped out on me. I was able to limp her off to the side of the road, but after that I was royally screwed. I was doing the silent prayer you do when you find yourself caught up in a situation you can't undo. My husband wasn't coming, this was back when he only rode his bike (even in the negative double digits!), and my only real chance of salvation was for a cop to come. I'd driven that stretch of road more than any other in my life. I knew the likelihood of a trooper dropping by, and my outlook wasn't good.
I was right about to panic, when I yellowish pickup fell behind me, emergency lights on. I was slightly relieved, but then the concern kicked in. You just never know with some people, so I had a little something on my keychain to help, but mostly I was a sitting duck. The guy came up to the driver's side window, his hands sort of raised in a non-threatening gesture, but for some reason... that put me more on edge. I rolled down the window as he approached.
Just like any other good samaritan, he introduced himself (as Mike). He said he was consulting too, doing much the same, and he was happy to drop me off at the nearest gas station (which was less than 10 miles away). It was either taking a ride with Mike, or walking in the bitter cold. He'd sort of found a pal-y way to help lower the guard, you know, find common ground. Establish those similarities. Assume a non-threatening stance. Earn trust.
I got out, and Mike was really adamant about not only turning off my hazzards (which... I really told him I wanted to leave on, I wasn't planning on being long). He assured me that they'd drain the battery by the time I got back, and that'd be just one more headache to deal with, so... I said okay. The entire time I'm trying to look this guy in the face, and for a person I tried to memorize for about 15 solid minutes, I can tell you one concentrated fact about "Mike"... he had blond hair. Other than that... yeah, you got me.
And that feeling was starting to come back. I'm at the right rear bumper, Mike's at the left, actively trying to avoid my full on stare, and we start to move the car. The strange thing is, though... the car was fine where it was when I pulled onto the shoulder. There was no need to do anything more. So, I started asking him questions
Where he worked, how long he'd worked there... just general things. He told me he was consulting with State Farm (like one of the biggest employers in Bloomington/Normal, so kind of a scattershot guess), that he'd been there for about 8 months. I laughed a little internally. I'd been at State Farm about 6 months ago, helping them roll out a pretty hardcore piece of security, so I knew the faces of tech at State Farm.
I'll be truthful, though... State Farm's a beast. This place actually has a hive like bunker built underground with ranked armor shielding for massive nuclear detonation (another well kept secret ;D). That's just to say that its campus was big, and while I knew all the techs in the main compound (their words, not mine ;D), it was always possible he worked in an off-site location. So, I started quizzing him. For him, I think it registered as interest.
He was lying right off. None of his answers matched up with what I knew, so the only reason I could glean for the mis-info was some kind of deception. My spidey sense was going haywire, and as he finished almost burying my car in a shitton of bush-yuck and highway shrubbery, I was internally wondering how to get out of this one. I started praying for a cop again.
Time had come for him to take me to that gas station. I hesitated, I acted all worried about the car. I was buying time, little by little, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that if didn't get into his truck soon, the situation was going to change. And, unarmed at the time, I wanted to keep "Mike" as calm as I could.
"Mike" had no front plate (you don't have to in Illinois), and I wasn't able to get to his back plate, so there was no way for me to even try to convey to someone that who this man was, even if I could get them to believe he was ULTRA fishy.
All I knew was that he had a yellowish Ford (small, kind of stubby), and that when I got into the truck, and slid along the bench seat, my feet snagged on something. Mike hadn't gotten in yet, being ever the gentleman when I conceded to getting in (there were a few things he wanted to finish up?), so I was alone for a minute. On the floorboard, beneath my feet, metal clanged like crazy. I couldn't see what it was, though, because it was covered over with newspaper. All I knew was that my feet weren't actually touching the ground.
I took a chance, sliding the newspaper away for about 10 seconds, long enough to see just a CADRE of GIANT wrenches, other tools, some rope, and that's as far as I got when "Mike" hopped inside. I was almost in hyperventilation mode. I kept telling myself in my head to be calm. Losing it was just going to raise the stakes, and if I could play dumb, play along, maybe I'd make it out okay. I was also, as silently as I could, inching the biggest wrench I'd ever seen in my LIFE towards my outside pant leg. I sneezed, and when I jerked forward, I grabbed it and slid it up along my leg. If something bad was going to happen, I was going out as hard as I could.
Right then... and I swear, the angels sang!, a car pulled up behind his truck. "Mike" got visibly angry. I mean, it was like... a switch had flipped. "What's this?!" he almost yelled. "What's this, you got someone comin?" He still wouldn't look at me, as a matter of fact, he was laser focused on the driver's side mirror. I told him I didn't know what he was talking about, because I didn't, no one was coming for me. So, when Judd walked up to the side of the truck, "Mike" almost made to take off, but Judd put one hand on his door, and then rapped a few times on his window, and "Mike" was forced to roll it down.
Now Judd... was a character. Sadly, Judd died about 10 years back (cancer). He was in his late 50's, then, and outside of being genius smart, he was also a consultant who worked with me. Beyond other things, Judd was a paranoid conspiracy theorist (some of my best memories of those days were being out with the guys, drinking, listening to Judd spin tales about the Illuminati!), but he was also a really, really, really good person. That's why when I met him, we were immediately good friends. So, when "Mike" rolled down his window, Judd was like seeing an oasis! And for his part, he was all smiles. Just SMILES. Maybe it was that good-hearted smile that brought the choir.
Judd explained that he'd seen my car (I'd driven Judd around enough times for him to know it by sight!;D), and since we were going to the same place, he'd take me. "Mike" got outwardly upset. He kept telling Judd that it was okay, he was just going to take me to a gas station so I could call for a tow, but Judd was assertive, rational, and... demanding. Something else no one really knew about Judd was that he worked in Intelligence for years prior to the whole consulting thing, so the man had some skills.
"Mike" finally said something like, "Fine! It's your choice!" to me, and the choice was the easiest one I've ever mad. I held onto that wrench until I'd exited the passenger side, then I quickly threw it back inside. "Mike's" eyes became as round as saucers, but his face is still a mystery to me, even to this day. I remember the way his eyes looked, round and dead and cold. But I couldn't tell you one other thing about him ('cept the unnatural color of his hair. As a person who does crazy things with hair colors, you can tell a bad dye job, and this was even worse).
At the tailgate, I could see that the back license plate had been pried off. There were _literally_ no defining features of either automobile or possible assailant I could really give. The perfect trap.
Judd sped me out of there, asked me if I was alright. I was. The adrenaline that takes over your body at panic time, it was running out of me like unshed tears, like one of those silent screams. I felt like my strings had been cut. When we got to work, I tried to contact Illinois State police, to give them something to work with, but here's the sad sad truth of that event. The dude never touched me. He didn't assault me. He didn't so much as threaten me. There was nothing they could do.
But I've never stopped worrying that maybe I'd met a serial killer that day. At least someone totally unhinged. And had Judd not come by when he did.... who knows. I credit that man with saving my life.
I don't know if there's a moral to the story, other than keep your cell phones charged and handy, and don't be afraid to carry a weapon. I started shortly thereafter, and I never not unarmed. I don't usually carry guns, I believe for women, we're not really a long range target, and for anything I can do in fighting range, a gun isn't always the most effective. You get in tight, as close as you can, you play the submissive. And when you're close enough to any major artery, you take your shot with the sharpest knife you can handle. A puncture to the femoral artery is my first go. The assailant not only loses control, but he bleeds out as his body pumps 2 liters of blood per minute. He's dead in 6.
If you can't go for the femoral, the radial or brachial will do. And if not there, the carotid is a choice, but with smaller women and taller men, this makes that reach, especially if you're in the process of being restrained, pretty tricky. The best move you can make, if you're armed and you can reach your knife, is to tuck in as close as you can, so they can't see you shift for the weapon, and then slide it as quickly and as forcefully as you can up his leg. That would do it.
Anyway! There's my story for the day! A long tale of almost woe. I hope your tales are faring better! I'm here if I can help in any way! Your topics are here: https://therealljidol.dreamwidth.org/1044767.html
I figured, Gary brings the funny. The extremely clever. Today, I figured I'd bring you a story, a real world story. It's not one I've told to many people, and I've never told it in a journaling community, so here goes! Oh, one last detail, not only is every bit of this true, I know because it happened to me.
There was a time before I gave up the academic world to become a full time writer, but before all of that, I was a wireless data consultant working for several Fortune 500s in Illinois, Wisconsin, and Indiana (with occasional stops in Kentucky =D).
I got so lucky a few years out of high school (1997). I applied for a job at a brand new ISP opening in our area, and the growth potential was staggering, so I kind of knew their trajectory. Going back a few years (1994-1995), I got even luckier. I was in the laundry room of my dorm, one night, when my Turkish friend, Melis, walked in and asked if I'd ever used a computer. I had, but it's not like we had one at home, growing up. If we didn't have a woefully underfunded computer lab in my high school, I probably never would have seen the thing! Anyway, long story short (too late!), Melis took me in, logged me on, and introduced me to email, to message boards, but even more exciting to me... IRC.
Now, we're back in basically the computer stone ages. IRC, otherwise known as Internet Relay Chat, operated on a pre-Windows operating system which many of you probably know-- UNIX. And not only did IRC and UNIX open up a bazillion opportunities (access to tech geeks, infinite knowledge, and finally.. the ability to not only take apart a computer physically and put it back together (back when everything was done by dip switches, dear God!), but I learned to master a UNIX OS with near precision.
I'm including all those details to say that beyond becoming close friends with a lot of BOFH's (Bastard Operators From Hell), I learned to hack. I learned to code. I learned everything I could absorb about a world that seemed unlimited. An infinite scope. So, when I stepped up to that podium in front of three friendly, yet super reserved men, that luck paid out. They hired me on the spot.
My mentor, Troy, he and his brother worked for Sun Microsystems. His brother was at Sun almost full time, but the ISP was Troy's baby, and the two of us were attached at the hip. Everything I hadn't already picked up, I learned from him. He taught me to route (and in 1997 I was the first woman to ever pass Cisco's CNDC and CCDE), how to install equipment, and how to crawl around on my belly in the dirt with CAT-3 and wire up infrastructure. In the end, there wasn't anything I learned with Troy that I didn't end up using.
Fast forward, again, back to 1997. I'd left the ISP, I wanted more and I also wanted to be in the same city as my husband. That didn't mean I didn't travel back and forth a lot. In the summer of 1997, I was driving an hour to work (from Champaign to Bloomington (IL)) and hour back. Rough weather sometimes, but otherwise it was ok. Despite billing out in the hundreds, as most consultants will tell you is one of consulting's best kept secrets, I didn't even earn half of it. A lot of what I made went into the gas tank, and it was definitely taking a toll on my car.
I was halfway between Champaign and Bloomington on a terrible winter's day. I had a Nokia (like a lot of us back then), but it was dead, and a car that had just totally crapped out on me. I was able to limp her off to the side of the road, but after that I was royally screwed. I was doing the silent prayer you do when you find yourself caught up in a situation you can't undo. My husband wasn't coming, this was back when he only rode his bike (even in the negative double digits!), and my only real chance of salvation was for a cop to come. I'd driven that stretch of road more than any other in my life. I knew the likelihood of a trooper dropping by, and my outlook wasn't good.
I was right about to panic, when I yellowish pickup fell behind me, emergency lights on. I was slightly relieved, but then the concern kicked in. You just never know with some people, so I had a little something on my keychain to help, but mostly I was a sitting duck. The guy came up to the driver's side window, his hands sort of raised in a non-threatening gesture, but for some reason... that put me more on edge. I rolled down the window as he approached.
Just like any other good samaritan, he introduced himself (as Mike). He said he was consulting too, doing much the same, and he was happy to drop me off at the nearest gas station (which was less than 10 miles away). It was either taking a ride with Mike, or walking in the bitter cold. He'd sort of found a pal-y way to help lower the guard, you know, find common ground. Establish those similarities. Assume a non-threatening stance. Earn trust.
I got out, and Mike was really adamant about not only turning off my hazzards (which... I really told him I wanted to leave on, I wasn't planning on being long). He assured me that they'd drain the battery by the time I got back, and that'd be just one more headache to deal with, so... I said okay. The entire time I'm trying to look this guy in the face, and for a person I tried to memorize for about 15 solid minutes, I can tell you one concentrated fact about "Mike"... he had blond hair. Other than that... yeah, you got me.
And that feeling was starting to come back. I'm at the right rear bumper, Mike's at the left, actively trying to avoid my full on stare, and we start to move the car. The strange thing is, though... the car was fine where it was when I pulled onto the shoulder. There was no need to do anything more. So, I started asking him questions
Where he worked, how long he'd worked there... just general things. He told me he was consulting with State Farm (like one of the biggest employers in Bloomington/Normal, so kind of a scattershot guess), that he'd been there for about 8 months. I laughed a little internally. I'd been at State Farm about 6 months ago, helping them roll out a pretty hardcore piece of security, so I knew the faces of tech at State Farm.
I'll be truthful, though... State Farm's a beast. This place actually has a hive like bunker built underground with ranked armor shielding for massive nuclear detonation (another well kept secret ;D). That's just to say that its campus was big, and while I knew all the techs in the main compound (their words, not mine ;D), it was always possible he worked in an off-site location. So, I started quizzing him. For him, I think it registered as interest.
He was lying right off. None of his answers matched up with what I knew, so the only reason I could glean for the mis-info was some kind of deception. My spidey sense was going haywire, and as he finished almost burying my car in a shitton of bush-yuck and highway shrubbery, I was internally wondering how to get out of this one. I started praying for a cop again.
Time had come for him to take me to that gas station. I hesitated, I acted all worried about the car. I was buying time, little by little, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that if didn't get into his truck soon, the situation was going to change. And, unarmed at the time, I wanted to keep "Mike" as calm as I could.
"Mike" had no front plate (you don't have to in Illinois), and I wasn't able to get to his back plate, so there was no way for me to even try to convey to someone that who this man was, even if I could get them to believe he was ULTRA fishy.
All I knew was that he had a yellowish Ford (small, kind of stubby), and that when I got into the truck, and slid along the bench seat, my feet snagged on something. Mike hadn't gotten in yet, being ever the gentleman when I conceded to getting in (there were a few things he wanted to finish up?), so I was alone for a minute. On the floorboard, beneath my feet, metal clanged like crazy. I couldn't see what it was, though, because it was covered over with newspaper. All I knew was that my feet weren't actually touching the ground.
I took a chance, sliding the newspaper away for about 10 seconds, long enough to see just a CADRE of GIANT wrenches, other tools, some rope, and that's as far as I got when "Mike" hopped inside. I was almost in hyperventilation mode. I kept telling myself in my head to be calm. Losing it was just going to raise the stakes, and if I could play dumb, play along, maybe I'd make it out okay. I was also, as silently as I could, inching the biggest wrench I'd ever seen in my LIFE towards my outside pant leg. I sneezed, and when I jerked forward, I grabbed it and slid it up along my leg. If something bad was going to happen, I was going out as hard as I could.
Right then... and I swear, the angels sang!, a car pulled up behind his truck. "Mike" got visibly angry. I mean, it was like... a switch had flipped. "What's this?!" he almost yelled. "What's this, you got someone comin?" He still wouldn't look at me, as a matter of fact, he was laser focused on the driver's side mirror. I told him I didn't know what he was talking about, because I didn't, no one was coming for me. So, when Judd walked up to the side of the truck, "Mike" almost made to take off, but Judd put one hand on his door, and then rapped a few times on his window, and "Mike" was forced to roll it down.
Now Judd... was a character. Sadly, Judd died about 10 years back (cancer). He was in his late 50's, then, and outside of being genius smart, he was also a consultant who worked with me. Beyond other things, Judd was a paranoid conspiracy theorist (some of my best memories of those days were being out with the guys, drinking, listening to Judd spin tales about the Illuminati!), but he was also a really, really, really good person. That's why when I met him, we were immediately good friends. So, when "Mike" rolled down his window, Judd was like seeing an oasis! And for his part, he was all smiles. Just SMILES. Maybe it was that good-hearted smile that brought the choir.
Judd explained that he'd seen my car (I'd driven Judd around enough times for him to know it by sight!;D), and since we were going to the same place, he'd take me. "Mike" got outwardly upset. He kept telling Judd that it was okay, he was just going to take me to a gas station so I could call for a tow, but Judd was assertive, rational, and... demanding. Something else no one really knew about Judd was that he worked in Intelligence for years prior to the whole consulting thing, so the man had some skills.
"Mike" finally said something like, "Fine! It's your choice!" to me, and the choice was the easiest one I've ever mad. I held onto that wrench until I'd exited the passenger side, then I quickly threw it back inside. "Mike's" eyes became as round as saucers, but his face is still a mystery to me, even to this day. I remember the way his eyes looked, round and dead and cold. But I couldn't tell you one other thing about him ('cept the unnatural color of his hair. As a person who does crazy things with hair colors, you can tell a bad dye job, and this was even worse).
At the tailgate, I could see that the back license plate had been pried off. There were _literally_ no defining features of either automobile or possible assailant I could really give. The perfect trap.
Judd sped me out of there, asked me if I was alright. I was. The adrenaline that takes over your body at panic time, it was running out of me like unshed tears, like one of those silent screams. I felt like my strings had been cut. When we got to work, I tried to contact Illinois State police, to give them something to work with, but here's the sad sad truth of that event. The dude never touched me. He didn't assault me. He didn't so much as threaten me. There was nothing they could do.
But I've never stopped worrying that maybe I'd met a serial killer that day. At least someone totally unhinged. And had Judd not come by when he did.... who knows. I credit that man with saving my life.
I don't know if there's a moral to the story, other than keep your cell phones charged and handy, and don't be afraid to carry a weapon. I started shortly thereafter, and I never not unarmed. I don't usually carry guns, I believe for women, we're not really a long range target, and for anything I can do in fighting range, a gun isn't always the most effective. You get in tight, as close as you can, you play the submissive. And when you're close enough to any major artery, you take your shot with the sharpest knife you can handle. A puncture to the femoral artery is my first go. The assailant not only loses control, but he bleeds out as his body pumps 2 liters of blood per minute. He's dead in 6.
If you can't go for the femoral, the radial or brachial will do. And if not there, the carotid is a choice, but with smaller women and taller men, this makes that reach, especially if you're in the process of being restrained, pretty tricky. The best move you can make, if you're armed and you can reach your knife, is to tuck in as close as you can, so they can't see you shift for the weapon, and then slide it as quickly and as forcefully as you can up his leg. That would do it.
Anyway! There's my story for the day! A long tale of almost woe. I hope your tales are faring better! I'm here if I can help in any way! Your topics are here: https://therealljidol.dreamwidth.org/1044767.html
