Paranoid Is as Paranoid Does...
19-Nov-2008, 12:22 PM
#1
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Join Date: Sep 2007
Location: 400 & 401 / 404 & 401
Posts: 334
Paranoid Is as Paranoid Does...
After getting several quotes for a deep scratch near my rocker panel, I dropped my car off at a West GTA body shop this past week. I'm a fairly private person with good acuity for personal security, so I took my house keys off the key chain, my garage door opener & registration / ownership out of the car, and obscured my VIN with a few parking tickets. Left my plates on the car.
I had met the manager for the 1st time while price-shopping during early November, was satisfied with the proximity of the shop, quality of the work, price we agreed on, and the promise of a 1-day stay. So several days later, when we finally both had a day free, I called ahead the morning of, to notify him that I would be arriving with the car shortly. Drive there, park the car, enter the shop, hand him the keys, pour myself a black tea & take a seat with the newspaper.
Beside me is a fellow that looks remarkably like Elaine’s boss from Seinfeld; we’re talking stunt double here. Even talks the same. We get chatting, he mentions his name, “Vic” & that he’s a used car salesman in the West GTA. Then he starts asking relatively invasive questions: how old I am, where I live, my job & the hours I work. Politely, I introduce myself by name, state my age, closest intersection to my home & the field I work in, deflecting the hours question by explaining it's part time & I'm paid accordingly.
He seems really interested & presses for details about my income. I say it’s enough to get by, still unmarried & living with my folks. During the awkward pause, the manager comes back out, telling me that he’s brought my car in & that he’ll call me late afternoon when the job’s done & the car’s ready for pick-up. I remind him about his previous offer to shuttle me home after I drop off the car (which helped to seal the deal as 7 nearby shops offered the same estimate.)
He replies that he can’t quite get away at the moment, but that his good friend Vic, (motioning to the gentleman seated next me) could probably do that on his way back North to his independent dealership. Vic says “Sure!” Then the manager begins speaking to Vic in a Slavik language in a fairly heated manner for almost a minute. I look out the window at a late model Satin White Pearl STi with a slight tint & dealer plates that I had seen in the lot as I parked & Vic pulls out his keys… Subaru. So much for personal security, I got up quicker than he did, almost knocking over my tea & replied “Great!”
This was the 1st time I had accepted a ride from a complete stranger (not including the incident in grade 4 from that bearded guy with square glasses in the black cube van with FREE CANDY drawn in duct tape on the side). He unlocks the doors, I get in. I scan the interior (manual, obviously) and the center console, and come to fix my eyes on his in-dash receiver: exactly the same model I had stolen. As in, had stolen FROM me, last year.
Now same model doesn’t mean same unit. But it’s a rare deck & I hadn’t seen it installed before I bought mine, and I haven’t seen it since it was dug out with what appeared to be a shovel back in September 07 while I was parked at a subway station. I ask him about it casually, he replies it came with the car when he bought it used & that he favours imports and just drives whatever doesn’t sell. We’re on our way. Again, he asks me where I live & I assure him it’s just fine to leave me at the plaza near my home (which is on his way anyhow). Then he asks me what I drive, (make, model, year…) ya know, car stuff, it’s what the guy does, right?
Anyway, in the few minutes it took to cover 12 kms (and it definitely was just a few minutes in an STi), I had really come to realize how much harm people can do by knowing just a little bit of critical information. I’m paying cash & have (knowingly) given the body shop nothing more than my car with keys, my first name & my cell phone number. Heck, a former truck-driver-turned-student colleague of mine from a class I was taking toward my 2nd degree a few years back, took my driver’s license # (with my consent) & later that day, messaged me on MSN with my full home address & month / year of birth.
Vic pulls onto the side of the road adjacent to the plaza, we shake hands, I thank him & get out. Waving again, I begin walking towards the lights. Crossing the avenue, I watch him drive off & continue walking home, turning into my residential street. Instinctively, I turn around again, and a Satin White Pearl STi is driving by slowly in the other direction.
Am I paranoid?
I had met the manager for the 1st time while price-shopping during early November, was satisfied with the proximity of the shop, quality of the work, price we agreed on, and the promise of a 1-day stay. So several days later, when we finally both had a day free, I called ahead the morning of, to notify him that I would be arriving with the car shortly. Drive there, park the car, enter the shop, hand him the keys, pour myself a black tea & take a seat with the newspaper.
Beside me is a fellow that looks remarkably like Elaine’s boss from Seinfeld; we’re talking stunt double here. Even talks the same. We get chatting, he mentions his name, “Vic” & that he’s a used car salesman in the West GTA. Then he starts asking relatively invasive questions: how old I am, where I live, my job & the hours I work. Politely, I introduce myself by name, state my age, closest intersection to my home & the field I work in, deflecting the hours question by explaining it's part time & I'm paid accordingly.
He seems really interested & presses for details about my income. I say it’s enough to get by, still unmarried & living with my folks. During the awkward pause, the manager comes back out, telling me that he’s brought my car in & that he’ll call me late afternoon when the job’s done & the car’s ready for pick-up. I remind him about his previous offer to shuttle me home after I drop off the car (which helped to seal the deal as 7 nearby shops offered the same estimate.)
He replies that he can’t quite get away at the moment, but that his good friend Vic, (motioning to the gentleman seated next me) could probably do that on his way back North to his independent dealership. Vic says “Sure!” Then the manager begins speaking to Vic in a Slavik language in a fairly heated manner for almost a minute. I look out the window at a late model Satin White Pearl STi with a slight tint & dealer plates that I had seen in the lot as I parked & Vic pulls out his keys… Subaru. So much for personal security, I got up quicker than he did, almost knocking over my tea & replied “Great!”
This was the 1st time I had accepted a ride from a complete stranger (not including the incident in grade 4 from that bearded guy with square glasses in the black cube van with FREE CANDY drawn in duct tape on the side). He unlocks the doors, I get in. I scan the interior (manual, obviously) and the center console, and come to fix my eyes on his in-dash receiver: exactly the same model I had stolen. As in, had stolen FROM me, last year.
Now same model doesn’t mean same unit. But it’s a rare deck & I hadn’t seen it installed before I bought mine, and I haven’t seen it since it was dug out with what appeared to be a shovel back in September 07 while I was parked at a subway station. I ask him about it casually, he replies it came with the car when he bought it used & that he favours imports and just drives whatever doesn’t sell. We’re on our way. Again, he asks me where I live & I assure him it’s just fine to leave me at the plaza near my home (which is on his way anyhow). Then he asks me what I drive, (make, model, year…) ya know, car stuff, it’s what the guy does, right?
Anyway, in the few minutes it took to cover 12 kms (and it definitely was just a few minutes in an STi), I had really come to realize how much harm people can do by knowing just a little bit of critical information. I’m paying cash & have (knowingly) given the body shop nothing more than my car with keys, my first name & my cell phone number. Heck, a former truck-driver-turned-student colleague of mine from a class I was taking toward my 2nd degree a few years back, took my driver’s license # (with my consent) & later that day, messaged me on MSN with my full home address & month / year of birth.
Vic pulls onto the side of the road adjacent to the plaza, we shake hands, I thank him & get out. Waving again, I begin walking towards the lights. Crossing the avenue, I watch him drive off & continue walking home, turning into my residential street. Instinctively, I turn around again, and a Satin White Pearl STi is driving by slowly in the other direction.
Am I paranoid?
Last edited by TroubEL; 19-Nov-2008 at 12:28 PM.
19-Nov-2008, 01:26 PM
#4
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Join Date: Sep 2007
Location: 400 & 401 / 404 & 401
Posts: 334
Car owner brings vehicle to body shop expecting to leave it for several hours while having scratch repaired, car owner meets inquisitive creep (possibly) posing as a customer but turns out conveniently to be "friends" with shop-keeper, bizarre twist leads to creep driving car owner back near his home to wait while repairs are performed, car owner looks over shoulder while walking back home, creep is driving by slowly & watching to see where car owner's home is.
19-Nov-2008, 01:27 PM
#5
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Join Date: Sep 2007
Location: GTA
Posts: 2,305
he took his car to a shady shop with shady immigrants
he thinks one of the immigrants stole his car stereo about a year ago
he gave them his car with no papertrail, keys, and where he lives
he smokes a lot of weed
he thinks one of the immigrants stole his car stereo about a year ago
he gave them his car with no papertrail, keys, and where he lives
he smokes a lot of weed
19-Nov-2008, 01:29 PM
#6
19-Nov-2008, 03:20 PM
#11
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__________________________________________________ ___________
paranoia par·a·noi·a (pār'ə-noi'ə)
n.
Copyright © 2002, 2001, 1995 by Houghton Mifflin Company. Published by Houghton Mifflin Company.
__________________________________________________ ___________
I was making my statement on the basis of definition #2, but I stand corrected, Mr. Fee.
paranoia par·a·noi·a (pār'ə-noi'ə)
n.
- A psychotic disorder characterized by systematized delusions, especially of persecution or grandeur, in the absence of other personality disorders.
- Extreme, irrational distrust of others.
Copyright © 2002, 2001, 1995 by Houghton Mifflin Company. Published by Houghton Mifflin Company.
__________________________________________________ ___________
I was making my statement on the basis of definition #2, but I stand corrected, Mr. Fee.
19-Nov-2008, 09:10 PM
#15
19-Nov-2008, 09:12 PM
#16
19-Nov-2008, 09:16 PM
#17
well it depends on the neighbourhood like do u live deep in the neighbourhood by the plaza? cuzz if u live like 2 mins away from the plaza him crossing by ur street coul dbe the way to his home....
the only thing i find weird about this story is the fact he drove by ur house after he dropped u off thats creepy...him having the same deck as u...who noes
did u see him see u see him? cuzz that might play a big role
the only thing i find weird about this story is the fact he drove by ur house after he dropped u off thats creepy...him having the same deck as u...who noes
did u see him see u see him? cuzz that might play a big role
19-Nov-2008, 09:24 PM
#19
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Thread Starter
Join Date: Sep 2007
Location: 400 & 401 / 404 & 401
Posts: 334
^^
1. My home is a 10-12 minute brisk walk North & East from the plaza.
2. He was purportedly returning to his independent stealership, which is NORTH of where he dropped me off & he simply should have continued driving in the same direction. (He had no reason to change direction & drive by again, unless he had forgotten something or suddenly remembered something.)
3. He did not see me seeing him. I voyeured him back like the creep he was.
1. My home is a 10-12 minute brisk walk North & East from the plaza.
2. He was purportedly returning to his independent stealership, which is NORTH of where he dropped me off & he simply should have continued driving in the same direction. (He had no reason to change direction & drive by again, unless he had forgotten something or suddenly remembered something.)
3. He did not see me seeing him. I voyeured him back like the creep he was.
