I had no idea how it would make me feel when I saw the CCTV footage of what happened - when he came in, when he went out. It was scary. The hairs on my back stood and my fingertips and toe tips went cold: Security told me that he's ambushing. Fortunately it was categorised as a generic ambush, and not aimed at a specific target.
That's when I made the police report. It was surreal to have to go to the police station to have my statement recorded. The police officers (a gentleman and a lady officer) handling my case were professional, but warmed up some when I cracked up as the questioning took place.
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Gentleman Police Officer: "At what time did you arrive at the location on 9th October?"
Me: "At about 2pm."
Gentleman Police Officer: "What were you there for?"
Me: "Work..."
(after some questions)
Gentleman Police Officer: "The next question might be sensitive, so... Well, at what stage were you when you noticed the head at the bottom of the cubicle?" (ie: "What did the Tom see?")
Me: "I was... I... "
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That's where I died laughing.
I'd wanted terribly to say I was in the process of pulling up my fluffy lacery and having a party with the loo paper (swinging it like a lasso) while the toilet flushed beneath the mirror ball but the absurdity of the thought spewed the laughter out of me. Thankfully.
When I finally regained my composure, I told the bemused police officers...
And so I put my signature on the report after a good conversation with the two young officers, and they saw me out. Odd thing was, two officers saw me in, three officers saw me out.
The third one seemed more senior and, judging by the looks of it, was fascinated with the idea of having a girl in a lace dress in the police HQ. I mused out loud to the gentleman officer that it'd be funny if I hit on him and - chap actually ran back and got his namecard*.
So... Yep, good ending to a good day. Decent substitute for missing Friday drinks with my friends.
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*Which reminds me, I hadn't looked at the namecard proper yet.
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