Stalker postman
Postmen are supposed to bring joy and happiness, bearers of good news, presenting long-awaited hauls from online shopping. Yet mine instils a sense of terror. I've been buying a lot of stuff online lately (and grumbling about the rising US dollar), and usually I opt for registered mail. Most postmen knock the door, deliver the goods and disappear promptly. The most they'll say is: "Sign here" disgruntledly, and nothing more.
I think my block has been assigned with a new postman. It's no longer a giant, sweating guy, but a small, spritely boy who's very young, 18 or 19 at most. He arrived at my doorstep drenched in rain on Tuesday, and started asking many questions:
Him: What you order ah?
Me: Stuff... Clothes
Him: Okay. Sign here. Write your IC number.
Me: *scribbles onto paper*
Him: Write your phone number also
Me: (incredulously) What for?
Him: Oh, just in case next time you're not around, can call you to let you know your things are here. Like... Personalised like that.
Me: (not thinking much) Ok. (typing home number into his handphone)
Him: You don't have handphone ah?
Me: Sorry? What do you need my handphone number for?
Him: Oh, nevermind lah... Eh, you never go out today?
Me: No
Him: What you doing now ah?
Me: Sleeping...?
Him: No lah. What you doing outside? Working ah?
Me: No, I'm in school.
Him: Where ah? ITE ah?
Me: No. NUS
Him: Today really never go out ah. Later I ask you out can?
Me: I've got to sleep now. (trying to close door)
Him: Tomorrow lah. Tomorrow my off day
Me: (closing door promptly)
Dear god, he's really started calling me after I gave him my number! And he was trying to be all funny when I asked who he was, saying "Your friend" and "the Malay boy at your door". I hung up immediately.
Should I complain to SingPost and risk having all my parcels destroyed by him? I wouldn't mind getting the sweaty postman who delivers all my stuff late. At least I won't have to worry about stalker postmen in the future.
I can't believe that I'm unsafe even in the confines of my own home. It just makes for a really surreal situation. Tell me what I should do!!! My finger is poised above the phone to dial the customer feedback line. Yet I don't want to destroy someone's livelihood. I think I'm too nice sometimes.
I think my block has been assigned with a new postman. It's no longer a giant, sweating guy, but a small, spritely boy who's very young, 18 or 19 at most. He arrived at my doorstep drenched in rain on Tuesday, and started asking many questions:
Him: What you order ah?
Me: Stuff... Clothes
Him: Okay. Sign here. Write your IC number.
Me: *scribbles onto paper*
Him: Write your phone number also
Me: (incredulously) What for?
Him: Oh, just in case next time you're not around, can call you to let you know your things are here. Like... Personalised like that.
Me: (not thinking much) Ok. (typing home number into his handphone)
Him: You don't have handphone ah?
Me: Sorry? What do you need my handphone number for?
Him: Oh, nevermind lah... Eh, you never go out today?
Me: No
Him: What you doing now ah?
Me: Sleeping...?
Him: No lah. What you doing outside? Working ah?
Me: No, I'm in school.
Him: Where ah? ITE ah?
Me: No. NUS
Him: Today really never go out ah. Later I ask you out can?
Me: I've got to sleep now. (trying to close door)
Him: Tomorrow lah. Tomorrow my off day
Me: (closing door promptly)
Dear god, he's really started calling me after I gave him my number! And he was trying to be all funny when I asked who he was, saying "Your friend" and "the Malay boy at your door". I hung up immediately.
Should I complain to SingPost and risk having all my parcels destroyed by him? I wouldn't mind getting the sweaty postman who delivers all my stuff late. At least I won't have to worry about stalker postmen in the future.
I can't believe that I'm unsafe even in the confines of my own home. It just makes for a really surreal situation. Tell me what I should do!!! My finger is poised above the phone to dial the customer feedback line. Yet I don't want to destroy someone's livelihood. I think I'm too nice sometimes.