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- [00:00]
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- [01:54]
Stephanie
The story happened just last week and it's still fresh in my mind. My family and I had decided to stop at Culver's for lunch. It was around noon when we pulled into the parking lot of a newer Culver's in our town. We parked and got out of the car and began walking into the restaurant. As we were walking in, I notice a strange guy sitting in a black Chevy pickup with the driver's door open. He looked to be in his 30s and he was smoking a cigarette and seemingly watching everything and everyone around him very carefully. I didn't think much of it since our town has a lot of weirdos in it and we just went inside. We were sitting at a table near the window and I could see the guy's trunk a few feet spaced away and he was still sitting there smoking a cigarette. I thought it was weird he wasn't getting any food or anything, but I figured maybe he was waiting for a door dash order or something. It took a while to get our food. But eventually we got it. We had been there so long at this point that the employees were doing shift change. All of a sudden I hear three loud pops and look out the window to see a female employee drop to the ground, blood getting all over the concrete and the man closing the door in his truck and peeling out of the parking lot. My parents and I were in shock and everything was just a blur after that. But basically the police showed up and shut down the restaurant and we had to leave. Later on in the news we learned that the man was the woman's ex boyfriend who she had just broken up with and he had decided to end her life because of it and waited for her outside of her work. And little did she know at the end of her shift she'd be walking right into her fate. The man was arrested and charged with murder, public endangerment and discharging a firearm in a public space and he was given 190 years in prison. The image of that woman laying in a pool of blood is still burned into my mind forever and I'm never going back to that Culver's again. My name is Stephanie and this all happened when I was 17 years old. A few years ago. I got my first job the summer before my senior year in June of 2022. Burger King wasn't exactly my dream, but it paid better than babysitting and didn't involve cleaning strangers houses like my mom's job. I wanted to help her out with the bills and save up for a beat up Honda Civic that I saw parked at a neighbor's house with a for sale sign in the window. It was $2,000. I figured I could make that by the fall if I picked up enough hours. I was hired two days after I filled out the online application. My uniform was a little too big and the visor made me look like a dork, but I didn't care. There was something exciting about clocking in, putting on a headset and pretending that I was part of something real. I made burgers, bagged fries and restocked napkins. I learned to refill the soda machine without making a mess. I liked the buzz of the drive thru during dinner rush and the way that my manager Tanya called me kiddo when I got things right. For a little while things felt normal. Then he started coming in. The first time I noticed him was on a Tuesday night. I remember because my feet were killing me. I was counting down the minutes until close. It came in just after the dinner rush around 6:45pm he looked out of place. Older than most of our customers, maybe late 40s, with graying hair and skin that looked like it hadn't seen a moisturizer in a decade. His eyes didn't move the way most people's did. They stayed fixed on me for way too long. He walked up to my register, ordered a Whopper with cheese and a medium fry. When I asked if he wanted a drink, he didn't answer me right away. Instead, he smiled in this way that made my stomach just twist.
- [05:47]
Creepy Customer
You're new here, he said.
- [05:49]
Stephanie
Yep. It's my first month.
- [05:52]
Creepy Customer
You've got a nice face, he said. I bet you hear that a lot.
- [05:56]
Stephanie
I didn't know what to say. I just handed him his receipt and told him that his food would be right out. He sat down at the table closest to the counter, eating slowly, watching me between bites. I told Tonia all about it after my shift. Oh, he's just lonely, she said with a sigh. We get a lot of regulars like that. Don't let it bother you. I wanted to believe her. But then he came in again the very next night. And the night after that, too. Every single night. Always during my shift. Always my line. He never changed his order. A Whopper with cheese, medium fry, and no drink. But he'd started adding little comments every time.
- [06:40]
Creepy Customer
Love that braid you're wearing tonight. You look tired, sweetheart. Long day. I could take you somewhere nice if you ever wanted a break from this place.
- [06:49]
Stephanie
It wasn't just the words. It was the way he looked at me, like he was measuring something. I tried to keep it professional. Short responses, eyes on the register. But it started to get harder to smile. Even when I wasn't working the counter, I'd feel a stare from across the dining room. I started dreading my shifts. One of my coworkers, Eli, noticed something was off, too.
- [07:14]
Creepy Customer
You good?
- [07:15]
Stephanie
He asked me one night while restocking the sauce packets. That guy gives me bad vibes. I nodded. He's been here every night, always talking to me. Well, did you tell Tonya? Eli asked. She thinks he's harmless. Eli frowned. I don't like it. Neither did I, but I didn't want to make drama over a creepy customer. I mean, what if I really was just overreacting? Then came the night everything changed. It was a Thursday night, just after 11pm Tanya was finishing the register count and I was taking out the trash before clocking out. I remember checking my phone. 11:22pm and I had texted my mom that I'd be home soon. I walked out the back door into the alley behind the building, headed toward the parking lot. It was quiet. Too quiet. That's when I saw him. He was leaning against the wall near the edge of the dumpster, half in shadow, smoking a cigarette.
- [08:17]
Creepy Customer
Hey there, he said.
- [08:19]
Stephanie
I froze. I hadn't seen him in the restaurant that night.
- [08:24]
Creepy Customer
I thought you'd come out sooner, he added. I waited here for a while.
- [08:29]
Stephanie
My heart dropped into my stomach. What do you want? He took a step forward, flicking the cigarette away.
- [08:36]
Creepy Customer
I just wanted to talk. You're always so busy inside.
- [08:41]
Stephanie
I tried to move past him, but he had stepped in front of me.
- [08:45]
Creepy Customer
Look, I like you, okay? I think we'd get along. You seem smart. Kind. I could take you out sometime. Maybe show you something better than this greasy place.
- [08:57]
Stephanie
No, I said, my voice trembling. You need to leave.
- [09:02]
Creepy Customer
I'm not trying to scare you, he said quickly. I just Tanya.
- [09:08]
Stephanie
I screamed. The back door slammed open. Tanya appeared in her work polo eye, scanning the alley. Steph, what's going on out here? The man's eyes went wide. He bolted, running into the darkness behind the building before Tania could catch more than a glimpse of his outline. I couldn't stop shaking. Tanya walked me to my car and stayed with me until I calmed down enough to drive. We called the police, filed a report, even showed them security footage, but nothing ever came of it. He never came back after that, though. I think he got scared. But sometimes when I'm alone in a parking lot or walking home after dark, I wonder if he just found someone else. Someone who didn't scream in time. If you take anything from my story, let it be this. Whether you're working fast food, retail, or anywhere that puts you in contact with strangers. Trust your instincts. Creeps don't always look like villains. They don't always break laws. Sometimes they wait. They watch. They wear you down until they think they can cross the line. It doesn't matter if they're a customer. It doesn't matter if no one else believes you. You don't owe anyone your silence, your smile, or your time. Speak up. Make noise. Ask for help. Because the truth is, danger doesn't always kick the door down. Sometimes it walks in, orders a burger, and stares at you from across the counter. And you have every right to walk away. Every right to be safe, and every right to say no.
- [10:44]
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- [11:02]
Stephanie
I never really had to work. Not in the way most people do anyway. I come from a pretty well off family, the kind where birthdays meant weekend trips instead of presents, and if I ever needed money for books or clothes or rent, my parents would just venmo it over before I even finished asking. And I don't say that to Bragg. Honestly, it's always made me feel weird. Like I was watching life from behind glass while everyone else was out there living it. So at 20, halfway through college and smack in the middle of a pretty cushy existence, I decided to do something completely out of character. I got a job at Taco Bell. It wasn't for the money. God knows I didn't need the $10 something an hour they were offering. I think I just wanted to feel something different. Something normal. Something real. Maybe I was bored. Maybe I wanted to prove that I wasn't as soft as I secretly worried I was. Whatever the reason, I filled out the application during a break between classes and I didn't think twice about it. And to my surprise, I got hired. No interview, no questions beyond can you work weekends? Just like that. I had a purple visor and my name written in Sharpie on a piece of masking tape. It was my first job ever. The rush, the first few shifts were almost fun. There's a rhythm to fast food, the strange choreography of beeping friars shouted orders, hands moving fast but knowing exactly what they're doing. My co workers were a mixed bunch. College kids like me, single moms, one guy out on parole who made the best burritos I've ever seen. They were all kind, sharp in unexpected ways and weirdly funny. They didn't treat me any differently. Even though I knew I stuck out, my hands were soft. I flinched at grease pops. I said please and thank you way too much. But no one ever said anything. They just showed me how to do things. How to reset the register whenever it froze. How to fold a crunchwrap without it falling apart. How to keep your cool when someone threw a drink at the drive thru window because we were out of Baja Blast. And I would say that I did okay better than I thought I would. I started to look forward to the shifts, especially at night when the store got quiet and we were all just killing time until close, laughing over broken headset mics or sneaking extra cinnamon twists. It felt like I was part of something. Then that night happened and everything changed. The truck. It was a Friday, one of those strange in between nights where the Rush dies early, but the store stays open late. 11:03pm I remember because I had just checked the wall clock, wondering how much longer I had to stay. We were on cleanup duty. I was in the back, stacking up the trash bags for the usual trip out to the dumpster. That's when I noticed the truck. An old white pickup beat to hell, rust eating the lower panels, duct tape over one of the taillights. It had been parked there for a while, near the very back of the lot, right at the edge where the lights didn't quite reach. I thought it was weird, but it is a Taco Bell, weird as standard. Maybe it belonged to a customer from earlier who left it overnight. Maybe someone was sleeping in it. We got that sometimes people who just needed a place to rest, scroll on their phones or leech off the free wifi. Still, though, something about this truck. It unsettled me. It was too still, like it had been waiting. I shook it off. I tied up the bags, grabbed two, one in each hand, pushed open the back door into the night. Outside it was quiet. No stores, just low clouds smothering the sky. The parking lot lights buzzed overhead, flickering slightly. The wind carried the faint smell of fries, bleach, and wet asphalt, the Truck said. Maybe 20ft away, half in shadow. I didn't look at it. Well, not really. I kept my eyes forward, focused on the dumpster. Then I opened the lid. The finger. I threw the first bag in and it landed with a wet smack. The second bag snagged onto something, maybe a box, may be metal, so I leaned in to shift it. That's when I saw it. Near the corner, half hidden by a flattened soda box. There was a finger. At first, of course, I thought it was a prank, a fake Halloween prop someone tossed in for a laugh. But then I saw the dirt under the chip's nail, the dried blood crusted on the knuckle, the pale, soft look of the real skin. It was real. I froze. Everything in me just stopped. My stomach dropped and I couldn't hear my own breath. Too loud, too fast. I couldn't think. I couldn't even feel anything. I was just staring at it. Then I turned and ran, bursting through the door, shouting for my manager and tripping over a mop bucket. At first she laughed, thought I was messing with her. I then insisted, borderline hysterical. She came with me, reluctantly. The moment she saw it, her whole face changed, like someone turned out the lights behind her eyes. She didn't say anything, just backed away, locked the door and called 911 the Aftermath the cops arrived pretty fast. Blue and red lights lit up the parking lot, bouncing off the wet pavement. They roped off the back area with yellow tape. Flashlights scanned the dumpster. The truck, which by then was gone, vanished. I hadn't heard it leave. None of us had. I gave my statement. So did my manager. The rest of the crew stood in the back room, quiet and confused. No one had seen anything unusual. No one had even noticed the truck arrive or drive away. It was like it had been there just long enough. Days passed. Eventually, we heard back. The finger had belonged to a missing woman. She was homeless. I'm not going to share her real identity just for anonymity's sake. She was in her early 40s. From what I heard, she at one point had a really great life. But like many, she went down the path of drugs and I guess too many mistakes caught up to her. The rest of her was found dumped in a lake 40 miles north. No arrests, no suspects, nothing else. But I couldn't stop thinking about it.
- [17:52]
Creepy Customer
The wait.
- [17:53]
Stephanie
I kept working there for a few more months. Pretended everything was fine. Smiled through orders, cracked jokes, stayed late when someone needed help. But I felt different. Like a thin crack had formed somewhere deep inside of me and no one else could see it. Every time I took out the trash, I felt like someone was watching. Like the shadows were holding their breath. I started dreaming about it. Not the finger exactly, but the dumpster. Always the dumpster. In the dreams, it was way deeper than it should be. Endless. Something waiting at the bottom. Breathing. Eventually, I quit. Told everyone I needed to focus on school. Exams were coming up. But that really wasn't the truth. The truth is, I just couldn't stop thinking about that woman. About how close I'd come to something that I didn't understand. Something I still don't. I wonder if I'd looked earlier, if I'd said something about the truck sooner, if anything would have changed. I'll never know. Here's what I learned. People say the world is small, that we're all connected. But I think what they mean is danger doesn't feel distant when it's real. It can be as close as a dumpster behind your work, as near as the shadows beyond a parking lot light. I never expected to find anything out there. Certainly not a piece of someone's life or their death. But I did. And now I carry it with me. I still think about her. I still wonder who did it. And I still wish I'd never had to see what I saw. I love a good Pizza Hut personal pan pizza, especially when it's piping hot straight out of the oven and the cheese is still trying to escape you when you take that first bite. Greasy, slightly too salty and somehow exactly what my body craves at 9:30 in the morning. I know it's not technically breakfast, but it's my comfort food whenever I'm running late, under caffeinated and annoyed at life. I love them so much that when the drive thru is packed and the line is winding around the building like it's Black Friday, I'll park and go inside like a peasant. Like a noble pizza hungry peasant who has better things to do than sit in a line of idling cars for 20 minutes? Yesterday was one of those days. Already behind schedule for work, hungry and trying not to let my mood spiral. I pull into the lot and notice the line of cars in the drive thru, sigh audibly to no one and decide to be brave and go inside. As I'm walking toward the door, this girl is just standing there right in front of it, blocking it with her whole body. She's facing me but still kind of pushing the door open like she's going to hold it for me from the inside. Except she doesn't move. She just stands there with this weird vacant look on her face like she's buffering. I do that awkward shuffle thing, squeeze through the sliver of space she's left me and say thanks. No response. She just closes the door behind me and then walks over to one of the tables and sits down. Didn't even order anything, didn't even look around. Just sat. Whatever. I figured she was just waiting for someone or maybe just charging her phone. It was too early and I was too hungry to care. I placed my order, grabbed a cup for my drink and stood around trying to look patient while my stomach made sad hollow sounds. Eventually I get my pizza, thank you melted cheese gods and I head back outside. I'm already running 10 minutes late, so I walk fast. I may be 10ft from my car when I hear someone yelling behind me, ma' am. Ma' Am. I keep walking. I'm not in the mood. People yell random stuff all the time. For all I know someone's trying to sell me magazine subscriptions or convince me to sign up for a gym. But then I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. Someone running fast and toward me. I turn my head and it's the same girl from before. She's got a suitcase now, and a big one at that. Roller wheels, extendable handle, sleek and expensive looking. She is also wearing a really nice coat and a travel backpack that probably costs more than my monthly car insurance. So not exactly someone down on her luck. She's yelling. Ignoring me is rude. Ma' am, I know you can hear me. Okay, I'm officially unsettled at this point. I reach my car and get the driver's door open. I'm grateful now that I parked in that weird end spot with the concrete and decorative rocks to the left of me. No car beside me, no car in front or behind me. Just a little bubble of escape potential. She closes the distance and stops just short of my car door. I need you to take me to the terminal, she says. Not can you please take me? Not. Hey, I'm stuck. Do you mind? Nope. It's a demand. Like I'm her Uber driver and this is a scheduled pickup. She doesn't even look. Out of breath, I tell her I'm sorry, I can't. I'm already late for work. I motion vaguely down the road like work is just around the corner. It's not. But she doesn't need to know that. The terminal is right there. I add, pointing in the direction of the transit center. You can literally walk. It's a five minute walk, tops. She ignores that completely. You have to take me, she repeats, like the logic of it is self evident. Now I'm getting pissed. This isn't someone in trouble. This isn't a scared traveler looking for help. This is someone who's decided that I'm responsible for her and doesn't care whether I agree. I'm not taking you anywhere, I say flatly. I'm leaving. I sit down and close my door and as I'm turning the key in the ignition, I see her grab the passenger door handle and start yanking on it hard. Then she starts pounding on the window with the palm of her hand. Thankfully, my Jeep is a beat up early 2000s model with manual locks. There was no way that door would open. She tries again. Then she starts shouting again, louder this time. Something about me being a horrible person, about how she needs this ride and that I'm selfish. And then, just when I thought she might walk away, she drops her suitcase and runs to the back of my Jeep. She starts digging through her purse with one hand, slamming her fist against my rear window with the other, over and over. If you know old Jeeps, you know the rear glass isn't exactly bulletproof. At that point I'm not just freaked out, I'm genuinely scared. I have no idea what she's reaching for in that purse. A knife, a key to slash my tires. A weapon? I don't wait to find out. I shift into four wheel drive, spin the wheel and gun it. My Jeep lurches over the concrete curb, tires gripping the rocks like they were made for it. I bounce my way out of the lot like a paranoid stunt driver in a bad action movie, pepperoni grease still on my fingers. In the mirror I catch one last glimpse of her chasing me to the sidewalk, still screaming. And just like that, she was gone. So yeah, to the wild Pizza Hut lady. Hopefully I won't encounter her again. I do have some lingering thoughts though. Am I a bad person for not giving her a ride? Or was this one of those self preservation tests? I've read way too many stories where good Samaritans end up in body bags. How did she even get to Pizza Hut? And I mean with a backpack and a suitcase. Someone must have dropped her off where she walked. Why not just keep walking to the terminal? She had a working phone. She was holding it when she first demanded the ride. What if I had given her a ride and there were people waiting at the terminal? What if this was some kind of setup? If she had just asked for money, she probably would have gotten a 20 from me. But she didn't ask. I still have way too many thoughts about this. I got my first job the summer I turned 16. It wasn't glamorous. In fact, it was the opposite of that. I worked at McDonald's. My parents were thrilled. My dad said it would build character and my mom said it would look good on college applications, even though I was pretty sure Ivy League schools didn't really care how many McChickens I handed out to customers. But honestly, I was kind of excited. I wanted to make my own money. I wanted to feel like I was doing something with my time instead of melting into my Xbox every night. And for the first few weeks it was fine. Easy, even take orders, smile, keep the line moving, clean the lobby, stock sauces, deal with weird customers. It wasn't fun, but it wasn't bad either. Not until the night when everything really changed for me. It was a Thursday in late July. Hot, humid, dead quiet except for the hum of the ice cream machine pretending to work. It was around 9:45pm, about 15 minutes until closing, and I was finishing up lobby duty, wiping down tables. No one had sat in for hours. The place was practically empty. Just me, the manager, Rita, who was barely older than me but somehow already jaded by life, and a guy named Marcus in the bag, prepping stuff for the morning crew. That's when he came in. The door swung open with that little dink and I looked up, expecting some last minute customer rushing to beat the clock. Instead, it was a man. Homeless probably. He appeared to be mid-50s and he was wearing three layers of dirty clothes even though it was boiling outside. His beard looked like it hadn't been trimmed in a year, and his eyes that were wild, unfocused, like he was seeing something else entirely. He shuffled in slowly, looking around like he wasn't sure where he was. Then he locked eyes with me. He then walked straight up to the counter. I put on my best employee smile. Hi. Welcome to McDonald's. What can I get for you tonight? He didn't answer. He just pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his coat pocket and slid it across the counter. I looked at it. The handwriting was barely legible, but I could make it out. Two Big Macs, one large fry, two apple pies, one Oreo McFlurry and a large Coke. I looked back up at him. Uh, okay, that'll be I'm not paying, he interrupted, voice low and gravely.
- [28:38]
Creepy Customer
You're going to make that for me? All of it?
- [28:41]
Stephanie
I blinked, trying to keep my tone polite. Sir, I can't give out free food. Company policy, you know. He just stared at me for a second. Then slowly, almost casually, he reached into his coat. Then he pulled out a knife. Not huge, just one of those folding pocket ones, but the way he held it had made my blood turn cold. He didn't raise it, didn't wave it around. He just showed it like it was part of the conversation.
- [29:12]
Creepy Customer
You make the order or bad things will happen tonight.
- [29:16]
Stephanie
That's all he said. Bad things. Not loud, not crazy, just calm. Like he was telling me the weather. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. My hands were shaking so badly I nearly dropped the receipt paper. Rita had gone in the back to count drawers. I was alone out front, just me and this guy and the knife. I nodded. Okay, I'll get started. I turned and walked into the kitchen like I'd done a hundred times before. Except now my heart was pounding so hard it felt like my ribs might crack. I caught Marcus eye and tried to mouth something.
- [29:55]
Creepy Customer
Help.
- [29:56]
Stephanie
Knife. Danger, something. But he was wearing earbuds and just gave me a thumbs up. I made the order, every piece of it. Big Mac's, fries, pies, even the McFlurry, which I knew was going to piss off Rita because technically the machine was in cleaning mode. But I didn't care. I just wanted him gone. When I handed it over, he took it silently, just nodded once, stuffed the food into a torn grocery bag and walked out without another word. No scene, no running, just gone. I stood there for a full minute after he left, still gripping the edge of the counter like I might fall over. Rita came out a second later and looked around. You alright? You look like you saw a ghost. I didn't answer because it wasn't a ghost. It was real. Very real. It happened and I couldn't unsee that knife. I couldn't unhear those words.
- [30:55]
Creepy Customer
Bad things will happen.
- [30:57]
Stephanie
I stayed until closing but I didn't sleep at all that night. The next morning I texted Rita that I was quitting. Didn't even give a reason. She just replied with K and that was it. And I never went back. Not to work, not to visit, not even to grab fries. I drive past that McDonald's sometimes. It's still there. Same golden arches, same drive thru menu. Same smell of fry or grease that somehow leaks through your car windows. But I never go in because every time I think about it I remember how close that knife was, how calm he sounded, how small. I felt like the world wasn't safe, not even in a place with happy meals and birthday balloons. I know people deal with worse. I know it could have ended way differently. That was the night I realized the world isn't always about smiling customers and drive thru timers. Sometimes it's about survival. I remember working the night shift recently at a small Dunkin Donuts in my neighborhood. I was covering for my friend Sophie who had called in sick last minute. Honestly, I wasn't really thrilled about pulling a late shift, but it was one of those help a friend out deals. Little did I know that night would end up being one of the most unsettling experiences I've ever had on the job. The store was practically empty, quiet except for the hum of the espresso machines and the occasional beep from the fryer. Around 11pm the manager asked me to sweep the floors until a customer came in. That's when he walked through the door. He looked rough, bald, with a long, scruffy gray beard that was uneven and tangled, thick glasses sitting crooked on his nose. His sandals were worn thin and his clothes looked like he had been wearing them for days, stained and dirty. He shuffled to the counter and I greeted him as usual. Hi there, can I get you anything? I looked up, tired eyes meeting mine.
- [33:01]
Creepy Customer
Then said, just a large black coffee please.
- [33:05]
Stephanie
I took his order, handed him the cup with a smile and then said, have a good night, sir. He smiled back. A small, quiet thing, but something about it seemed genuine. I grabbed the broom again and started sweeping, but I noticed that he was sitting kind of close to where I'd be working, right under the tables and near the trash bin. I tried to keep my focus on sweeping, but when I got near his table he suddenly spoke up.
- [33:32]
Creepy Customer
You're very pretty, he said.
- [33:35]
Stephanie
I smiled politely, a little caught off guard. Thank you. He leaned in just a bit and.
- [33:42]
Creepy Customer
Asked, want a ride home? When is your shift over?
- [33:46]
Stephanie
I shook my head quickly. No thanks. I have a ride. His smile vanished. The warmth in his eyes turned cold, almost sharp.
- [33:56]
Creepy Customer
What's your schedule?
- [33:58]
Stephanie
He demanded. I'm not allowed to give out that information, I said firmly. He grumbled something, grabbed his coffee, and went back outside without another word. I shook off the encounter, chalking it up to one of those weird moments you try not to think about too much. The next night Sophie was back at work with me and our friend John was working the drive thru. I told Sophie about the man from the night before and she gave me this worried look like she was trying to figure out if I was joking or not. Then John came over and asked if everything was okay. I repeated the story. His face went pale. That guy actually called the store earlier, he said quietly. He asked about you. My blood ran cold. I hadn't even thought about the fact that he might know who I was. Just then I saw him walk back inside the Duncan. Sophie went ghost white and John looked like he had seen a ghost too. I forced myself to greet him again. Hello. Can I get you anything tonight? He shook his head and then said.
- [35:02]
Creepy Customer
With a crooked grin, no, but can I take you home?
- [35:07]
Stephanie
Before I could answer, John stepped outside the drive thru window and shouted, no way she's going anywhere with you, dude. Get out of here before I call the cops. The manager was pissed off at John for leaving his post to confront the guy while Sophie was busy making sandwiches. John didn't argue. He just switched shifts with me until the morning crew arrived. Later on, the manager asked me to take out the trash to the dumpster. My heart was pounding just thinking about going outside alone. Okay, I said, trying to keep my voice steady. John was furious. The manager expected me to do that, so he grabbed the trash bag himself and went outside instead. When he came back, he had pulled me aside and whispered, that guy was waiting for you in his truck. There were five other big guys with him. I felt my stomach twist into knots. I told the manager what John said, hoping she'd do something, but she just waved it off. He's harmless, she said. Stop worrying and get back to work. I didn't feel safe. The next morning, John and I worked the early shift. Our co worker, Maya, came up to me looking serious. That guy came back last night, she said quietly. Said he'd be waiting for you when you got here. I was sick to my stomach. I couldn't believe this was happening. When the guy showed up again later, John didn't hesitate. He told him to get the hell out and never come back or he called the cops. John's tone was so fierce that the guy left immediately. Sadly, John lost his job because he left his post to protect me. The manager fired him, probably because he was making her job even harder. I actually cried when John got fired. He was really the only one watching out for me. Sophie and I would have been completely alone otherwise. After all that, Sophie and I both quit working at Dunkin Donuts. We couldn't work there feeling unsafe every night like that. Now John, Sophie and I all live in the same apartment building and we work at a grocery store. It's quieter, safer, and for now it really feels like a fresh start. I still wonder sometimes what might have happened if John hadn't taken out the trash that night. I'm just grateful that I never have to see that guy again. This is actually my second post here and it's the second time that I've had a creepy experience that felt like stalking. I'm going to try and keep it organized, but some backstory is necessary to understand what happened. Bear with me. It's a bit long. For about two to three years I worked as an assistant manager at a Starbucks located in a wealthy neighborhood. It was one of those stores where the customers were mostly professionals and the staff tended to be pretty well off them themselves. A lot of my co workers treated it like a fun part time gig while they finished college or waited for their real careers to start. I had some genuinely great memories there and honestly, a lot funny and wild stories too. The job had its ups and downs, but things got particularly stressful when our store manager left unexpectedly. She took a position at a boutique coffee shop across town and suddenly I was the highest ranking person left at the store. That meant I was running the place until corporate found a replacement. The next three months were rough. We were so understaffed it was borderline chaos. One night a few baristas just walked out mid shift because they were fed up with how Everything was being handled. I stayed behind and kept the store open, juggling customer orders, stocking and cleaning, basically doing everything myself. It was exhausting, but I got a raise for holding down the fort, which was actually nice. Finally, corporates sent over some help. A new manager named Jason, along with a few employees from another Starbucks about 30 minutes away. Jason came in like he was the new sheriff in town, immediately barking orders at everyone. The problem was no one listened to him. But when I asked the same things, the team responded quickly and efficiently. Jason came to me frustrated, asking why they ignored him, but listened to me. I explained something pretty simple. These employees weren't there for the paycheck. They were there for the experience, social atmosphere, and the chance to put something on their resumes while they were figuring out their lives. Most of them already drove expensive cars, wore designer clothes, and treated the job as a stepping stone or a fun hangout, not as a strict workplace. I told Jason that if he wanted to earn their respect, he needed to be both their friend and their boss. Earn respect through empathy and leadership, not just orders. To his credit, he listened for a while and started easing up. He made an effort to connect with the staff, and they seemed to respond well. But after a few weeks, things took a turn. Jason started making unreasonable demands, mostly about closing duties, late night cleaning, stocking, and organizing things that he knew I couldn't do myself because I was busy handling deposits, schedules, and other management tasks. He was micromanaging in ways that didn't make sense and piling on work that wasn't realistically manageable. I was stressed and frustrated, and one night I finally lost it and I told him to screw off. After a few more tense weeks, I decided that enough was enough. I put in my two weeks notice and started applying for jobs elsewhere. Luckily, I had a few offers lined up and I accepted a general manager position at a nearby Dunkin Donuts, just a couple miles away. At Dunkin, things were different. We were also short staffed, but I liked the new role. However, I ended up working a lot of late shifts, often closing the store by myself. That meant everything from mopping the floors to counting the tills and locking the doors fell on me. I didn't mind. It was quiet, and it gave me some peace after the chaos in Starbucks. But something weird started happening. Every night around closing time, I noticed the same car would pull into the parking lot and park directly in front of the store. It was an older, dark colored sedan with tinted windows. The car's headlights stayed on, but it never moved. At first, I thought maybe it was some kids hanging out or couples making out. But the car just sat there for hours. Every single night. I was always the last to leave. I'd set the alarm, lock up and head out. One night, just as I locked the front door behind me and walked to my car, I heard an engine start. I looked over to see that same car's headlight shining directly at me. It didn't move. It just sat there with the engine running. I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. I hurried to my car, locked the doors and started pulling out of the parking lot. Almost immediately, the car followed me. My drive home wasn't far, but I had a gut feeling it wasn't safe to go straight home. I took the highway, which was almost empty at 1am and I tried to lose the car. I switched lanes, speeding up a bit to see if they'd pass me. Instead, the car just stayed behind me, matching my every move. At this point, I was terrified. My phone was almost dead, but I had managed to call my husband. I whispered quickly about the car following me. He told me to drive straight to the nearest police station, which was only a few miles off the highway. As I approached the station, the car suddenly sped past me at a reckless speed and then disappeared into the night. I felt shaken, but relieved. I turned around and went home. That should have been the end of it. But a week later, I saw that same car parked outside Duncan. This time, my coworkers insisted that I call the cops immediately. When the police arrived, the driver stepped out. It was Jason. He told the officers that he wasn't doing anything wrong and that he had just developed a crush on me during our time working together at Starbucks. He claimed that he just wanted to say hi. The police didn't arrest him, but they told him to leave and did not come back. That was the last time I saw Jason. Even now, I get chills thinking about how things could have gone wrong. Worse. It was one of the creepiest experiences of my life. And it all started with a simple job at a coffee shop.