Well this is a new one for my work...

[roseembolism]

I've never worked at a business that is being stalked before.  

We're currently being phone stalked by a client who evidently has nothing better to do all day then call us.  "New Jersey" as we call him, called  wanting to do an order with a ridiculous discount, and then kept calling and calling and calling.  He talks a mile a minute, doesn't listen to what we say, is very rude, accused us of being a scam operation, and then finally settled on a standard order.  And then he called multiple times a day, while his order was being shipped.  He said that he called the other businesses in the building, and that they had never heard of us.  And now he's not happy with his order, and called over a dozen times today, threatening to stop payment, and then just calling and hanging up before he could be transferred to the right person.  

We've all dealt with this guy; both the main secretary and the person in charge of the department have literally screamed at him to stop calling.  This is really far beyond simply being a difficult customer, into the downright pathological.  We tease each other about the guy, but I have to wonder if he's just sitting in a vacant apartment.  Alone with a phone, calling and calling and calling...

Comments

[ghilledhu.livejournal.com]

I had a stalker once at my previous job: a scary ex-con who was desperately trying to get us to publish him. (velvetpaws, you remember this guy, right?) He sent us dreadful poetry, accompanied by long, rambling, barely-intelligible letters, usually without a SASE. I think we responded with a polite rejection at first, then ignored his stuff.

Then one day, he called the office. I was unlucky enough to pick up the phone. He rambled on and on, ignoring my polite "Actually, we really don't publish original poetry" remarks, and eventually I realized who it was. The truly scary part was that he kept repeating my name, which made me terrified that this guy was going to hunt me down or something.

Eventually I got him off the phone. Some time later, he sent us a big wooden box, covered with cut-out pictures and scraps of poetry. Fortunately that was the last we heard from him.

[roseembolism.livejournal.com]

That's weird; especially the box-o-poetry.

Fortunately, our guy is in New Jersey, and he hasn't called today. Maybe he finally got the point?