Speaker 1: I'm sorry if this post is too long, but I've
Speaker 1: never shared this with anyone, and this seems like the
Speaker 1: best place to do so. When I was around nine,
Speaker 1: I went to summer camp at the nearby YMCA for
Speaker 1: a few summers. It was a day camp and there
Speaker 1: were different camps you could do, such as water sports, crafts, canoeing.
Speaker 1: Each camp lasted for about one week. I started the
Speaker 1: summer by taking one of the craft camps, a special
Speaker 1: one that lasted two weeks. I was really excited about it,
Speaker 1: but I was nervous because I didn't know anyone else
Speaker 1: in my group and I'm very shy. In the first day,
Speaker 1: I managed to make friends with an older kid who
Speaker 1: was in a wheelchair. He was seventeen I believe. I'm
Speaker 1: not sure what his disability was, but he was socially
Speaker 1: awkward and kind of gave off a creepy vibe. I
Speaker 1: tried my best to be nice to him because nobody
Speaker 1: else talked to him, but eventually he started to make
Speaker 1: me uncomfortable. First, he'd start by talking about how much
Speaker 1: he hated being in the wheelchair because it made his
Speaker 1: back hurt. He liked to be able to get out
Speaker 1: at the end of the day and stretch as he
Speaker 1: was do some exercises with this physical therapist, and I
Speaker 1: just smile and nod as he talked about this, not
Speaker 1: knowing what else to say. At some point, I mentioned
Speaker 1: to him how I was a dancer and really liked
Speaker 1: acrobatics class. He asked me to show him some of
Speaker 1: my moves, so I did a cartwheel. He told me
Speaker 1: that my legs looked beautiful when I stretched them out
Speaker 1: like that. Being a kid, I didn't think much of
Speaker 1: the comment, but I started getting uncomfortable when he began
Speaker 1: telling me how much he liked my hair, or how
Speaker 1: white my teeth were, or how cute I was because
Speaker 1: I was so little. One day, he was talking about
Speaker 1: stretching outside of his wheelchair and mentioned how good it
Speaker 1: would feel if someone were to walk on his back.
Speaker 1: You'd be perfect, just the right size. Would you do
Speaker 1: that for me one day? I'd love to have you
Speaker 1: on top of me. He smiled creepily when he said this,
Speaker 1: so I awkwardly changed the direction of the conversation by
Speaker 1: telling him how I used to do that for my dad.
Speaker 1: I was young and stupid and probably shouldn't have told
Speaker 1: him that. He got really excited and started talking about
Speaker 1: how much he loved and how good it must have
Speaker 1: felt for my dad. I bet he loves having his
Speaker 1: little girl on top of him like that. He reached
Speaker 1: out to me at this point and put his hand
Speaker 1: on my knee. We were sitting by a table in
Speaker 1: the craft cabin. I awkwardly shoved it off, moving away
Speaker 1: a little. He smiled and started talking about how good
Speaker 1: it would feel if I were to do cartwheels on
Speaker 1: his back and jump on him, maybe even lay down
Speaker 1: on top of him and rub his sighs. I got
Speaker 1: really uncomfortable at this point, and luckily my mom drove
Speaker 1: up a moment later, so I was ready to leave.
Speaker 1: This was on the weekend and the camp was going
Speaker 1: to continue to the following Monday. I didn't mention anything
Speaker 1: to my mom because I figured he was just lonely
Speaker 1: and awkward and didn't mean to be creepy. But when
Speaker 1: I got to the camp Monday, he immediately came up
Speaker 1: to me. I was so upset that I couldn't see
Speaker 1: you this weekend. I missed my little girl. I smiled
Speaker 1: and awkwardly walked away, but he followed me. We were
Speaker 1: all going as a group to the craft cabin, and
Speaker 1: he came up next to me and asked if I
Speaker 1: wanted to sit in his lap and ride to the
Speaker 1: cabin with him. I politely declined. Had managed to avoid
Speaker 1: him for the rest of the day until I was
Speaker 1: walking to my mom's car at the end of the day.
Speaker 1: He came up to me, grabbed my hand, and pulled
Speaker 1: me towards him. You really hurt me today. How would
Speaker 1: you like it if I hurt you. I ganked my
Speaker 1: hand away and walked quickly to the car. I told
Speaker 1: my MoMA all about it as soon as I got
Speaker 1: in the car. She immediately drove over to the camp
Speaker 1: office and spoke with the camp leader about it, who
Speaker 1: I shared my story with. He assured us that he
Speaker 1: would take care of it immediately. As we were driving
Speaker 1: away after the meeting, I saw two counselors go up
Speaker 1: to the boy and lead them into the camp office.
Speaker 1: The look on his face looked like he was going
Speaker 1: to murder someone. I never saw him again after that.
Speaker 1: I was told that he was kicked out of the
Speaker 1: camp and never allowed to return, and for the rest
Speaker 1: of the week, the camp counselors would check on me
Speaker 1: and make sure I was okay, so creepy boy from
Speaker 1: summer camp, and I hope you got your issues worked
Speaker 1: out and that you're finally living a happy life. Now.
Speaker 1: This is my first post here. This experience still gives
Speaker 1: me chills to this day. I actually have a few
Speaker 1: other camp encounters that I can share if anyone's interested,
Speaker 1: mainly occurring along the Appalachian Trail with campers. North Georgia
Speaker 1: is a mighty interesting place. A few years ago I
Speaker 1: worked at a Jewish summer camp in North Georgia. As
Speaker 1: many of you might know, Georgia is a fairly conservative state.
Speaker 1: As well as being predominantly Christian, there are small Jewish
Speaker 1: communities and a few summer camps. I'd say this camp
Speaker 1: was more culturally Jewish than it was religious. There were
Speaker 1: no religious requirements nor religion specific focus. Rather, it was
Speaker 1: a place for kids who were often in the minority
Speaker 1: to come to a camp that allowed them to meet
Speaker 1: some other kids like them. Staff came from all over
Speaker 1: We had many Australians, lots of Brits, a few Israelis,
Speaker 1: and people from various areas of the USA. Each night,
Speaker 1: around ten most of the staff was able to go
Speaker 1: out on the town for a couple of hours. Enough
Speaker 1: staff remained behind to watch over the cabins we rotated.
Speaker 1: In this particular night, a group of about five of
Speaker 1: us decided to go to a local bar to grab
Speaker 1: a few beers. It had been a hot day and
Speaker 1: was a human night, so we decided to sit outside
Speaker 1: on the patio for some backstory on the town. Generally,
Speaker 1: we were extremely well received by the community, despite some differences.
Speaker 1: We brought in lots of revenue for the town During
Speaker 1: the summer. We bought supplies at the local walmart and
Speaker 1: often took the campers on tubing trips or occasionally out
Speaker 1: to dinner after a long hike on the Appalachian Train.
Speaker 1: It was midsummer, so we'd been out to the bars
Speaker 1: in the area many times already. That session, the five
Speaker 1: of us sat around a table, drinking and discussing the
Speaker 1: events of the day, as fellow employees typically would after work.
Speaker 1: About thirty minutes in, a white man in his twenties
Speaker 1: came up to our table. I distinctly remember a jagged
Speaker 1: scar on his cheek, but didn't think much of it
Speaker 1: at the time. He introduced himself, then told us that
Speaker 1: he was having a party that night at his place.
Speaker 1: Anyone can come, he said, black, white, gay, straight. I
Speaker 1: found it odd that he'd open his speech with that disclaimer.
Speaker 1: Of course, the party should be open to everyone. Why
Speaker 1: did he feel the need to specify. But we'd all
Speaker 1: had a few beers at that point and we're feeling
Speaker 1: pretty loose. He talked for a bit longer, and nothing
Speaker 1: really seemed off. We told him we were working at
Speaker 1: a camp in the area and couldn't stay out, so
Speaker 1: we'd probably be heading back soon. An hour later, our
Speaker 1: group went out to the parking lot to get into
Speaker 1: the car. As we approached it, we saw the same
Speaker 1: guy come out of the shadows. He had a buddy
Speaker 1: with him with a shaved head. His expression was incredibly hateful.
Speaker 1: His eyes had changed. He pounded his fist into his hand,
Speaker 1: then took off his shirt and revealed a poorly inked
Speaker 1: SS tattoo. My stomach dropped. One of the bigger guys
Speaker 1: in my group, Kevin, immediately reacted by pulling a knife
Speaker 1: out of his back pocket, and at summer camp, most
Speaker 1: of us staff carried knives. We spent a lot of
Speaker 1: time building campfires and the like, and asked what they
Speaker 1: wanted the original guy started shouting some anti Semitic remarks
Speaker 1: and told us he was going to beat us down.
Speaker 1: Kevin started walking toward the two guys, but we pulled
Speaker 1: him back. He told us his buddies were on the way.
Speaker 1: Sure enough, some more guys started walking into the parking lot.
Speaker 1: It's all kind of blurry from there. I remember jumping
Speaker 1: into one of the cars pulling given with us. It
Speaker 1: felt like we were surrounded, though there were probably only
Speaker 1: seven or eight of them. Rocks were thrown at the
Speaker 1: car and we sped off. My heart was beating like crazy.
Speaker 1: We never went back to that bar. On the bright side,
Speaker 1: when we told the story to the competing bar in town,
Speaker 1: the bartender lined up six shots, cheersed us and said
Speaker 1: we'd always be welcome in his bar in that town.
Speaker 1: Had no more problems in the town itself. But when
Speaker 1: I took some campers up on a two day hike
Speaker 1: up the Appalachian Trail, that was another story. I began
Speaker 1: working in a summer camp several years ago. I had
Speaker 1: a history as a camper at this camp, and I
Speaker 1: love the place. By the time I was nineteen, I
Speaker 1: had done what I never imagined i'd do, and became
Speaker 1: the camps one and only medic. As medic, I no
Speaker 1: longer hung out with counselors and the other younger staff
Speaker 1: as much. If I had free time, I spent it
Speaker 1: helping out in the kitchen. This year, there was kind
Speaker 1: of a big turnover and staff O, a longtime cook,
Speaker 1: moved on from camp, and no one was hired over
Speaker 1: the year as a replacement, so come summertime we were
Speaker 1: scrambling to find someone to cover that position. I met
Speaker 1: two of the interviewees, one of middle aged woman who,
Speaker 1: in my humble opinion, seemed like the perfect get it
Speaker 1: done kind of person you'd need as a cook. The
Speaker 1: other a tall man mid forties with piercings galore and
Speaker 1: an a loud, look at me personality. The woman I
Speaker 1: fancied was not chosen. I think my boss was upset
Speaker 1: by her surprise when she saw how smaller kitchen was.
Speaker 1: Two ovens to feed one hundred and fifty people, and
Speaker 1: the camp was into juice to our new cook, Chef Vincent.
Speaker 1: Everybody loved Chef Vincent, except for me. The instant I
Speaker 1: met him, I got chills down my spine. You know
Speaker 1: when you hear a strained sound in the dark and
Speaker 1: your body's screaming at you to run or hide or something.
Speaker 1: And that's how I felt every second I was in
Speaker 1: the meal hall of the kitchen. Soon the places that
Speaker 1: have been like a second home to me were feeling
Speaker 1: less comfortable and more get me the fuck out of here.
Speaker 1: Creepy chef Vincent was abrasive. My first time talking to him.
Speaker 1: He said something like, that's your medic in response to
Speaker 1: my color dyed. He he tried to be fancy, but
Speaker 1: his meals were dull and soggy. After watching him prepare one,
Speaker 1: I stopped eating them altogether. I don't think the man
Speaker 1: had gone to school in his life, let alone taking
Speaker 1: a food safety course. I survived off an occasional bite
Speaker 1: of safe food on the table, like packaged crackers and bread,
Speaker 1: things he hadn't handled directly, and a storage of cheap
Speaker 1: meal replacement drinks in my room. It sucked. I'm an
Speaker 1: extremely protective person, especially with my younger co workers who
Speaker 1: were basically family to me. Jeff Vincent's kitchen staff were
Speaker 1: sixteen or seventeen year olds, and I was afraid for them.
Speaker 1: I'd watched from outside the kitchen and talked to them.
Speaker 1: Discreetly making sure everything was okay. Honestly, at this point,
Speaker 1: I was worried that I was being unfair since everybody
Speaker 1: else loved him. Maybe I was the one beating a creep.
Speaker 1: But I couldn't get over the comments he made and
Speaker 1: the way he talked to me. He would touch my
Speaker 1: shoulder and stand all tall and lean over me when
Speaker 1: he talked. He told me about his kids and how
Speaker 1: they have to stay with their grandma now, and about
Speaker 1: as many years of experience, which I always suspected were
Speaker 1: due to being a prison cook or something like that.
Speaker 1: He was extremely arrogant. I wanted to punch him, to
Speaker 1: be honest, but eventually I just stopped going in the
Speaker 1: kitchen and even stayed away from the mess hole unless
Speaker 1: others were in there with me. If he tried to
Speaker 1: talk to me, which he did often at night on
Speaker 1: the deck, I ignored him and left the room. But I
Speaker 1: still thought I was being a bitch, to be honest.
Speaker 1: Then Jeff Vincent told one of the kitchen staff to
Speaker 1: really molest that in reference to stirring a pot or whatever.
Speaker 1: One member of the kitchen staff came to me crying
Speaker 1: about how much he was pushing them in the kitchen.
Speaker 1: Soon all three kitchen staff were describing incidents of complete disrespect,
Speaker 1: his refusal to learn their names, use of inappropriate words,
Speaker 1: and calling them his little girls and the boy John Jack,
Speaker 1: Jehovah whatever. This pushed me until I told the boss
Speaker 1: about how uncomfortable this man made me. I didn't bring
Speaker 1: the kitchen staff into it, since I advised them to
Speaker 1: tell the boss on their own. Then one day a
Speaker 1: Fellow's staff member came up and said that Chef Vincent
Speaker 1: said I won't stop following him and that I should
Speaker 1: be dating him. Confused and angry, I followed up with
Speaker 1: another staff member who said the chef was talking about
Speaker 1: the camp dog. Still concerned, I continued with my day.
Speaker 1: When Chef Vincent came to me and told me the story,
Speaker 1: laughing with a hand on my shoulder the whole time.
Speaker 1: I said, you must really like me. He also made
Speaker 1: veiled sexual innuendos constantly, oh yeah, I like things hot,
Speaker 1: and complimented me like more than is appropriate. I got
Speaker 1: chills every time. Fuck off, dude. This has been going
Speaker 1: on for a week. In the second week, I'm asleep
Speaker 1: in the Maddock's cabin. It's got a bedroom separated from
Speaker 1: the rest of the office by an unlockable door, and
Speaker 1: I'm the only one who stays there. My nights are long,
Speaker 1: lots of sick campers and whatnot. This particular night, it's
Speaker 1: four a m. And I've finally got into bed after
Speaker 1: being up for an hour with a sick kid. I'm
Speaker 1: exhausted and I'm asleep the second my head hits the pillow.
Speaker 1: Two hours later, I'm awakened by a loud thumping on
Speaker 1: my door. Usually staff used the walkie talkie to contact me,
Speaker 1: even at night, but I'm pretty concerned and I crawl
Speaker 1: out of bed and head to the door. It's Chef Vincent.
Speaker 1: I hesitate, not wanting to open the door for him,
Speaker 1: so he hammers on it again. He looks angry. I'm angry.
Speaker 1: It's six am. What the fuck does he want? Finally
Speaker 1: I open the door just a crack, and look out.
Speaker 1: He's loud. I have to do laundry. My office house
Speaker 1: is the washer and dryer for the camp because I
Speaker 1: do laundry when kids with the beds, So every morning
Speaker 1: laundry is reserved and staff needs to ask me to
Speaker 1: use it. This particular week, we'd had water problems and
Speaker 1: laundry couldn't be done. So I had a lineup of
Speaker 1: camper things needing to be washed, and here he was
Speaker 1: six am, demanding to use the thing. When I pointed
Speaker 1: out the water issues and how camper stuff comes first,
Speaker 1: he got aggressive and yanked the door open. He's big
Speaker 1: and intimidating, and I stepped backward to avoid him, and
Speaker 1: he looked at me and said, I'm the important one
Speaker 1: around here. I went cold. It was six a m.
Speaker 1: I had just been told by a creature from the
Speaker 1: depths that I, who had worked at the camp for
Speaker 1: five years, was unimportant compared to him. It's hard to
Speaker 1: convey body language secondhand, but he was aggressive to the
Speaker 1: degree that I flew past my usual response to this
Speaker 1: kind of situation anger and went straight to fearing for
Speaker 1: my safety. I can be an anxious person, but I
Speaker 1: don't get genuinely frightened by a lot other than horror movies.
Speaker 1: So what scared me more was how scared I was.
Speaker 1: Hair on end, adrenaline pumping scared. His gaze was absolutely predatory,
Speaker 1: and there was nothing about his presence that made me
Speaker 1: think he saw me as more than something to be
Speaker 1: toyed with. At this point, my mouth was opening, and
Speaker 1: I knew I'd say something I'd regret saying, especially locked
Speaker 1: in this building alone with the one man who creeped
Speaker 1: the shit out of me from the second I'd met him.
Speaker 1: So I forced out one word okay and backed my
Speaker 1: way into my room. He watched me the whole time.
Speaker 1: I'd go to my room and the tears push behind
Speaker 1: my eyes, but I'm too tired for them to actually come.
Speaker 1: I'm tired of this frustration, of this anger, and this fear.
Speaker 1: I had warned my boss about him. Boss was always saying,
Speaker 1: listen to your gut, and I was. But did they
Speaker 1: do anything about it. No. I pushed a chair against
Speaker 1: the doorknob, not knowing if it actually works to lock doors,
Speaker 1: like a dozen the movies, and curled up in my bed.
Speaker 1: I told my boss the following morning, and they called
Speaker 1: it inappropriate instead. It wouldn't happen again. But that was
Speaker 1: all I heard of it. For the next week. I
Speaker 1: lived in constant anxiety, which meant puking a lot and
Speaker 1: hiding in my room. When he talked to me, he
Speaker 1: had a smile that would make even the most daft
Speaker 1: of people pause for concern. While before this I had
Speaker 1: attempted to beat polite, I always always left from then
Speaker 1: on that week or maybe the next, in all blurs together.
Speaker 1: At this point, all of the staff were upstairs, save
Speaker 1: for a few staff monitoring kids in their cabins. I
Speaker 1: was called over by a fellow upper level staff member
Speaker 1: who informed me that Chef Vincent had been fired. His
Speaker 1: police check, which they hadn't decided to do until after
Speaker 1: he was hired, had come back. He didn't pass his
Speaker 1: vulnerable sector check aka he was not allowed to work
Speaker 1: with or volunteer with kids in any capatit due to
Speaker 1: prior crimes that i'll let you mull over. Camp was
Speaker 1: effectively on lockdown while he was to vacate the premises.
Speaker 1: I lost it. Then tears came and wouldn't stop, and
Speaker 1: I couldn't breathe. My whole body went fuzzy, and as
Speaker 1: I was let out of the building by another upper
Speaker 1: level staff member, where I managed to gargle out something
Speaker 1: along the lines of he made me so anxious, and
Speaker 1: no one else saw it. I'm just so relieved. The
Speaker 1: panic attack lasted for a solid thirty minutes. When I
Speaker 1: saw him exit the building with his belongings. I hid
Speaker 1: in my office. When I finally came out, he was gone.
Speaker 1: They kept us all under wraps. They didn't tell the
Speaker 1: kids the cook had gone, didn't tell the parents just
Speaker 1: in case something had happened. My boss didn't even tell
Speaker 1: the board of directors. It was a huge liability still is.
Speaker 1: And while I'm glad that my anxieties about this man
Speaker 1: were completely justified, I'm filled with anger over the fact
Speaker 1: that he was hired without a criminal record check and
Speaker 1: the fact that my feelings were repeatedly dismissed. Camp went
Speaker 1: from being the only place in this world where I
Speaker 1: felt completely safe and comfortable to a strange place where
Speaker 1: I felt like I was living a nightmare. I felt
Speaker 1: inadequate and constantly upset. It's funny how having your fears
Speaker 1: ignored can make you feel like there's something wrong with you. Eventually,
Speaker 1: I couldn't take it anymore, and I quit on account
Speaker 1: of my mental health so I could see it professional
Speaker 1: more often. I still have fears about that man finding me,
Speaker 1: which I feel is irrational because he never actually abused
Speaker 1: me or anything. He just made me shit myself in
Speaker 1: anxiety and was incredibly aggressive and over sexual. My parents
Speaker 1: joke about it being a cape fear kind of situation,
Speaker 1: and laughing about it makes it feel better, but only
Speaker 1: for a little bit. I don't think anyone realizes just
Speaker 1: how terrified I was. To this day, I still am