Close Calls- Part 2

The second time I was attacked, I was working in Sunrise, Florida- just west of Fort Lauderdale. This little town is known for just about one thing... or at least it was when I worked there... Sawgrass Mills Mall. Yep, the big draw to Sunrise is a HUGE mall. It's 1.25 miles across. If you walk the whole thing in one day you walk 2.5 miles- not counting going into any of the stores. It is a giant. Back then it was the largest outlet mall in the USA. I'm sure, though, this being America and all, that there is something bigger and, well, bigger by now.

Anyway, I worked for a family of Russians at a place called Bedlington Investments. It sounds like some sort of financial firm, but it is really just a high end shop in the mall. They sold all sorts of collectibles and jewelry, as well as art. They also sold Russian "artifacts". Like those little nesting dolls- one inside the next larger one, etc. They sold what the Cubans called "iconistas", or icons. Golden framed jeweled representations of saints or cardinals or whatever in the Russian Orthodox church.

I was sort of an assistant manager. I was responsible for some of the other employees, and I was almost the most senior non-family employee that they had. I was pretty good at the soft sell techniques you need for some of the things they sold. You don't hard sell someone into buying $1500.00 of Lladro ceramics or Swarovski crystal. You simply remark how beautiful it is and look admiringly at it while they consider it. If you treat it like it belongs in a museum, they will pay for it like it does.

Anyway, I was leaving before sunset one day, an unusual occurance for me as I was often a closer. I noticed a homeless-looking man off to my left, rummaging through the garbage can outside. This was sort of unusual, since mall security would have run this guy off pretty quickly under most circumstances. But today was different. Anyway, I took note of it and kept on moving, eager to get home, order a pizza and watch some t.v.

The next thing I knew I heard shuffling behind me. I knew it was the man, I didn't even have to turn to look. There just wasn't any question in my mind. He tried to say something like "Excuse me, spare some change" or whatever to get me to turn. Something told me not to stop, not to turn to face him. I kept on walking, although looking back I know now I should have run.

Then he grabbed me.

He had a pretty good grip on my left shoulder. It was strange because it felt like his hands were channeling electricity into me. I turned towards the shoulder he grabbed me by, forcing that part of my body closer to him. It's counterintuitive, most people would expect you to jerk forward and away, so they hold on harder with the front of their hand. They don't expect you to move into them, and I think that's exactly why it worked. He lost his grip on me. Don't ask me how I knew to do it that way, it's just the way it happened.

I pushed my shoulder and my right hand into his chest, shoving him away from me as hard as I could. I yelled, "Get away from me!" My forehead grazed his unshaven chin. I smelled the alcohol on his breath. I was angry. How dare he put his hands on me?! Not because I thought that I was better than him, but back then, all he would have had to do was ask and I would have given him whatever change I had. He was pretty drunk I suppose, because he fell backwards onto his ass. He called me a "bitch." I didn't stop to find out if he was okay, I ran to my car. And with my hands shaking from fear, anger and adrenaline, I unlocked the door and got in. I looked in the rear view mirror long enough to make sure that I wouldn't hit him, or anyone else, as I was leaving. Then I peeled out of that parking lot faster than I ever had before.

I went home, but couldn't stop thinking about it. Did he just want money? Was he going to try to rape me? Kidnap me? Kill me? Would he be there the next time I went to work? It was awful and scary. But I was proud of myself for fighting and not just giving in to whatever it was he wanted.

So, now, here I am roughly 11 years later. I still wonder about him. I never saw him again. I wonder what happened to him. I wonder if I hurt him. If I did, I wonder if he got help. I wonder if he even remembered that he tried to grab me. And if he did, I wonder if he felt bad.

That's all for now. Thanks for reading, everyone!

Love to all,

Sherry