I was 24 and finishing up graduate school. It was late July and I had moved into a small apartment that was in an old house (the kind that had been broken up into several apartments). My unit was on the 2nd floor and the only one there because the other rooms had been converted into storage.
One morning, in early August there was knocking at my door at around 7:00 am. I was still in bed. Not knowing who it was I threw on my briefs which were on the floor and went to the door. I asked who it was and the guy identified himself as Jack Harris and he had been hired to paint my unit. He wanted to come in and look it over first. I asked if he could come back as it was early and he said no as he had other jobs to do that day. So, I opened the door and let him in.
He came in, saw me in my jockey shorts and asked if that is how I dress when I greet people at the door. To be honest I was a bit annoyed at being woken up early so I said "Yes, it's my place and I like to be comfortable". Ignoring my comment he came in and started looking around, writing things down on his note pad. I sat down on a kitchen chair sulking and watching him. As he wrote on the note pad he asked if I was going to put some pants on. I said no as I was going back to bed once he left.
He then told me it was not a big job and instructed me to remove the few things that were on the walls, empty my bedroom closet, and clear all the counter space in the tiny kitchen that I had. I nodded. He then told me that he would return the following Tuesday at 7 am. I asked if he could come later but he just grabbed his notebook and left without even saying goodbye.
I thought: "What a prick!" and went back to bed.
The following Tuesday I was sound asleep when I heard knocking at my door. I looked at the clock and saw that it was 7:00 am. I sat up in bed and asked who was there. A voice let me know that it was Mr. Harris. I had completely forgotten about him what day he was returning! Getting up, I went to the bathroom, grabbed my towel and wrapped it around my waist. Then I went and opened the door. Still half asleep, I smiled and said: "Good morning, Jack".
He responded: "Mr. Harris to you." He stepped inside and seeing me in just the towel and with mussed up hair he asked me: "Were you still sleeping?" I told him yes but now I was up and going to take a shower to wake up.
He walked into the small main room and, with a bit of a scowl on his face, said: "I told you to remove the items from the walls and you haven't done it."
Instead of reacting to his accusation I simply countered with: "Well, where's all of your painting stuff?" He told me his equipment, paint and ladder were down in his truck. I then suggested he go get it while I showered. He started to speak but I simply turned my back and walked into the bathroom. When I got there I was feeling a little smug like I had put Jack in his place. Smiling, I put the towel back on its hook, started the water to the shower and began whistling happily.
As I was drying off from the shower I could hear him bringing things into my apartment. I finished drying off and then grabbed a pair of briefs and put them on. Following that I returned to the bathroom to brush my teeth and comb my hair. He came into my bedroom and went to the closet. I saw him there so I came over to where he was and said: "See. All emptied just as Jack ordered."
He looked at me and repeated: "Mr. Harris." I ignored him and finished combing my hair. When I finished and came out of the bathroom he looked at me and, in slow deliberate speech, said: "You're a real smartass aren't you?" Again, I would not take the bait and I ignored him.
Next, I went into the tiny kitchen to get the coffee started. I plugged in the percolator and soon the smell of my morning beverage was filling my tiny apartment. Jack followed me and, looking around, told me that I needed to clear the counters as well as take the things off of the walls in the main room. I informed him that I was busy making coffee and perhaps he could busy himself with those projects. However, in what I thought was a friendly gesture, I also said that I was making a full pot and there would be plenty to share.
He went back to the room and began to spread out some old sheets to protect the floors. But he stopped and returned to where I was in the kitchen. Looking at me he asked if I was going to get dressed. I gave him a big smile and told him that, as far as I was concerned, I was dressed. It was MY apartment and I intended on being comfortable. On hearing that he stepped closer to me and with a grin said: "Well, if your are going to walk around in front of me in just your jockey shorts it seems that the least you can do is put on a decent pair." As he spoke he grabbed the waistband of my briefs and gave it a snap. That startled me a bit and I stepped back from him but the wall prevented me from going very far.
I should mention at this point that, while shorter than me, Jack (Mr. Harris) was a very solid and muscular guy. I imagine he got a lot of his strength form the physical labor he did everyday. He was also a guy in his late 40's or maybe early 50's. However, I have never been very good with telling someone's age.
Grinning at me he said: "The waistband of those briefs is losing its elasticity." Feeling a little uncomfortable I tried to walk past him so I might go back to my bedroom and close the door but he blocked my way. Again he grabbed the waistband and snapped it. He chuckled and, while looking directly at my well worn briefs, said: "Not much life left in those jockeys. A little threadbare too, wouldn't you say?"
Trying to stand my ground I said: "Who's being a smartass now, Jack?" He clearly did not like that inquiry (or calling him Jack) and he now was inches away from me with my back almost against the wall.
Glaring at me he said: "I gave you a few easy tasks to do before this morning and you didn't do them." Standing there so close to me in his blue workpants and white t-shirt he started to look a bit intimidating. I was wondering if perhaps I had overplayed my hand.
A little uneasy I decided to play the "apartment manager card." Look," I said "you're here to do a job and not give me a hard time. I'll just bet the apartment manager would not be too happy to hear that the painter he hired is a jerk." Clearly, this act of hubris would turn out to be a huge mistake.
What happened next occurred so rapidly that it remains a blur in my memory. He grabbed me and pulled me away from the wall. In a flash my right arm was twisted behind my back and he started pushing me toward the bedroom. I was still in my bare feet and they were slipping on the wood floor. He grabbed me to keep me from falling and continued pushing me toward the bedroom. I resisted as much as my body allowed but he was physically much stronger.
He stopped when he arrived at my unmade bed. Giving my arm a slight twist he said: "OK, smartass. I think it's time for you to learn a little bit about respect."
His next move was so quick that is was truly over before I had any time to think and/or react. In one fluid movement Mr. Harris sat down on the bed. As he did so he brought me over and across his left knee. As my chest landed on the bed he lifted his right leg and used it to pin down my legs against the side of the bed. I tried to feel the floor so I might gain some traction but my toes barely touched it. With my right arm twisted behind me with his left hand and my legs pinned down I was completely "locked up" in his grip. I wiggled my stomach and hips which laid securely across his left knee but I could not move more than an inch or two.
