Freaked Out

Last night I had to buy my monthly bus pass from NJ Transit. I walked up to the window, and the gentleman behind the glass said, “Bloomfield, right?”

Uh. Yes.

He began punching the info into his machine as I flipped him my credit card. He mumbled something into his microphone which I could hear, so I asked him to repeat it.

“You live on BlahBlahBlah Drive, right?” I heard him ask.


“Where do YOU live?” I asked.

“I’m on BlahBlahBlah Drive, too. I seen you around the neighborhood.”

“Oh really? What number are you?”

“1234,” he replied, then mention the street intersection.

“Oh! I’m further down. Nice to meet you neighbor!”

With that I signed off on my credit card, took my pass and receipt and walked away. This morning I mentioned the conversation to Denis and he thinks he knows who the guy is (something about Denis seeing him with his dog).

Still freaked out about it though.

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  1. Freaked Out in a good way like “oh my goodness, what a small world.” Or Freaked Out in a bad way like “oh my, the creepy little man behind the window knows where I live and now he has my credit card information too!”

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