What I’m about to tell you maybe a total fabrication of a sick individual or bone chillingly real, you decide. I called the premise technician prior heading to what would be my last job of the day. He said, “I’ll stay if you want me to but hurry, the building guy is creeping me out.” Twenty minutes later, I was parking my truck in front of the 1930’s Art Deco tiled building in Downtown Oakland. The technician came up to my truck and said, “I’ll show you where the main telephone room is then I’m out of here. You’ll see why!”
Richard was the building manager and he proclaimed that he too was in charge of the building’s copper and fiber. I thought to myself, “Yeah right, this old building with a massive need for a lot of fiber? At most it might be a bunch of start up one room companies.”
As I restored the line in question, Richard followed me around and said, “I can’t leave you for your protection.” I asked him, “What did you do before this?” He replied, “I worked in asset protection at The World’s Largest Telecommunications Company and before that with the National Security Administration (NSA),before that I was in black ops.”
At one point, he began to tell me these incredible stories of data surveillance and of worse things and his role in it. When I working in San Francisco, I used to go into that central office only later was it revealed as to being the center of data hacking in the country. Now anyone watching the news would have known of that building’s address but he knew the two security guard’s names posted at the entrance? I knew their names too.
As we walked down an old basement corridor, a young man in a pressed shirt and slacks came out of a door with a sign on it saying, “High Voltage. Do Not Enter.” That seemed strange? Usually a guy in over-alls or dirty jeans works down in the bowels of building such as that. It took a lot longer to restore my customer’s service. At one point I told Richard, “This might take until 7pm.” He replied, “I got all night.”
The job indeed took till 7pm as I had told him. As we parted company he said, “You take care of yourself Juan. Oh by the way, nice social security number!” He read it off to me, my date of birth and my mother’s maiden name… This too will pass