Podcast Episode 6: That Time a Thud in the Hallway Led to an Actor and an Almost Impossible Phone Contact
You know the saying: the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. But no one talks about what happens when you say the same thing over and over. When you keep telling a story that sounds impossible to people who aren't quite ready to believe it, and you say it anyway, because you know what you saw. This is the episode where Jen stops waiting to be believed and starts collecting proof that she already is. Between sessions with the human lie detector, a series of synchronicities so specific they defy any reasonable explanation begin stacking up around her. A familiar face. A name that shouldn't be in someone's phone. A moment of being seen, fully, clearly, without having to explain herself, by someone who had no reason to look.
Talk Nerdy To Me® - Episode 6 Transcript
That Time a Thud in the Hallway Led to an Actor & an almost Impossible Phone Contact
If I led with, "Hi, I can predict the behavior of people I've never met or seen," I'd be a very successful Hollywood psychic. Let's just say I'm not coming here for that. Welcome to Talk Nerdy to Me. This is the unbelievably true life story of Jen Friel. And a warning to those listening, once you hear it, you may never experience your own life in the same way. You know the saying, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. But no one talks about what happens when you say the same thing over and over.
When you keep telling a story that sounds impossible, and you say it anyway because you know what you saw. The paying off is in the doing, and in this episode, Jen has been saying the same thing for a very long time, and it is starting to pay off in ways she never could have imagined. Four months before my first session with the human lie detector, Jeff and I were sitting on our couch watching one of our friends appear on their TV show called Undercover Billionaire. We had just sent a video cheering them on with our honest commentary when I heard a thud outside our door.
Not a package thud, a person thud. One who didn't belong there because our area of the hallway did not have any other residents at the time. Earlier in the month, a woman had moved onto our floor, and I was fearful of her. I want to sit with that word for a second because fear is not one thing. This was not the kind of fear that makes you run. This was the kind that makes you very, very still. And the only way Jen could describe what she was witnessing is that this woman operated in entirely different personalities, very much in the spirit of the movie Split.
The behavior was not just strange, it was a liability, and Jen documented it. She submitted reports to management with photos. She had never seen anything like it before, and neither had her neighbors, who started coming to her asking how to handle their own run-ins. Jen's answer was always the same. Document it and tell management. One of her personalities was a bird. She would stand tall, perch, and just stare at you with the intensity of an owl but the energy of a hawk. She was not out to kill, but imagine opening your front door and those eyes are just there, locked onto you, completely silent.
Another time she went full dodo bird, standing near the office door like she was waiting for something, literally banging her head on the wall back and forth. I took a photo of that one for management. Then there was a softer side. I called her the substitute gym teacher. She would sit on the stairwell in a baseball cap reading her mail, legs wide open, shoulders low, arms dangling over her knees. She was kind of in charge in the way that someone's in charge when there are no other adults around. And then there was old yeller. She yelled and yelled and yelled.
A lot of cussing, a lot of anger. Sometimes she ran in this state like a child on a playground at full speed. I treated my interactions with her like we lived in the animal kingdom. All eye contact was considered a reward. I no longer acknowledged her but would physically stand my ground as if an indicator for her to leave via flight or foot. So when Jen heard something outside their door and they had not ordered anything online, she knew it was her. "I am going to stand our ground. I do not want her near our part of the hallway." Jeff was shocked she had even heard anything.
Jen ran over to the door and quickly opened it. She slapped her hand against the front of it, hoping to startle her, only to find out she was the one who was startled. "Hi, I am sorry. This thing is so tricky." Jen saw a man standing in the hallway, stumbling with the tarp that had been temporarily put up while workers were painting. She stood there stunned. It wasn't the woman or the bird, but rather a famous actor starring on a hit show apparently filming down the street from where she lived. You all know him. He's that guy. When that guy shows up at your door, you let him in.
He looked around and into our apartment. "Wow, do you mind if I come in? Your space is so cool." He then pet Teddy, our blind and mostly deaf elderly COVID rescue dog, who happened to baa like a sheep. That's not a euphemism. I had to note that on all of his vet intake paperwork as it would freak the doctors out. Apparently, he imprinted from a sheep in the yard he was abandoned in. I have never seen or heard anything like it, so protect your ears for a moment while I play you the only clip I have of him doing it.
Again, really great space. Good energy. I can tell you guys are good people. Jen had just finished decorating their apartment, so it looked quite different than the other units. Much to his credit, their run-ins became an almost weekly occurrence. To stay sane during COVID lockdowns, their floor started having hallway parties with boxed wine in a decanter. Posh and Podunk they called it, as they joked with their friends that the white boxed wine mixed with red boxed wine was their specialty house rosé, served in Waterford Crystal, of course. One hallway party turned into many, and many turned into drinks at their dinner table, which Jen admits is very inviting and has a way of making people want to stay.
One night, he noticed the Talk Nerdy to Me stage show poster on the wall. Talk Nerdy to Me. I've heard of you and your blog. Internally, I screamed for a moment. That guy knows this woman, and I'm this woman. Sometime later, at our same dinner table, the subject of stalkers came up. I don't remember how we got there, but everyone had something to say, and that guy turned to me and asked what I would do. Would I file a restraining order, or would I just ignore the person? I didn't admit that the gang stalking was occurring, nor did I admit setting legal precedent in the state of Connecticut, but I did tell him what I believed.
It's up to the victim on how they wanna proceed, first and foremost, but it also depends on the type of stalking that's happening and understanding the personality behind it. I mentioned Gavin de Becker's book, The Gift of Fear, on exactly how these situations worked and went to go grab it from the other room, and by the other room, I mean the bathroom. That is a really smart approach, and Gavin happens to be one of my best friends. I'm more surprised that you know who he is. Yeah, duh. I watched Oprah in the 2000s. He was on Oprah a lot. This would be the first of many very specific synchronicities between them.
Jen's favorite came later, when she sent that guy Jeff's contact information, and he paused. He already had a Jeff Decker in his phone. The odds that someone you meet already has your exact name saved in their phone when your name is Jeff Decker fall somewhere between one in 500,000 and one in several million, conservatively. When I had the surveillance footage at the end of June, one of my first calls was to that guy, remembering his connection to Gavin. I am so sorry you are going through this. He told me Gavin was booked, but he listened as I shared my truth and the receipts to what I was saying.
I have never even heard of anything like this. Me either, but now at least I have proof. Finally. Do you remember that time we went to that restaurant? I was followed then, too. I noticed that. The two guys, they were listening to us. I assumed they were just fans, so I brushed it off. Jen was stunned. He not only remembered, but also saw what she saw. He confirmed everything without being prompted, without hesitation. Talk about a boss move, walking into the police station with that eyewitness report. Just kidding, I didn't have to, but it was a card I could play if I needed it.
Shortly after our call and shared experience, I then started working with the human lie detector. Before their second session, Jen sent the human lie detector everything; her posts, the surveillance footage, and all the relevant information supporting what she was saying. "How can I help you today?" He asked. She went into everything she had seen, any new details from the week in between, and her continued exhausting fear that she did not understand what she was up against. When she was stalked at 17, she at least knew the people. This time, she believed she knew the person who had ordered it, but she could not confirm it, and she refused to take that risk.
For an hour, she went into the details. Then she pivoted back to what was right in front of her and asked him what he would advise her to do. "What do you think you should do?" He asked. "I don't know," she said. "That is why I just want to focus on the profile." "Let's focus on you," he replied. Trusting in the process, she listened. She told him more. Then he asked the question that stopped her in her tracks. "How do you know you are being stalked?" She stopped for a moment, realizing what he was asking. Clearly, we are starting at stage one, she thought.
What I'm presenting is an intangible within an intangible. I'm asking someone to believe that I am being followed and tracked into a series of places where someone I have not met before not only records my conversations, but also takes pictures and videos. I'm then asking someone to believe that all these people are working together and in some larger picture collecting data on me for seemingly no purpose. I am very aware of what I'm saying. I have been spotting the same patterns over and over for a very long period of time, and I can now predict the behavior of people I have never met before, nor seen.
If I led with, "Hi, I can predict the behavior of people I've never met or seen," I'd be a very successful Hollywood psychic. Let's just say I'm not coming here for that. "What patterns do you see?" asked the human lie detector in a very non-judgmental way. I can read body language. I mean, I'm not a human lie detector, but people are cookie cutters in my mind. I see shapes, and each one is like a fingerprint. Just a few weeks ago, I recognized a friend of mine halfway down the street from a moving bus, not because of what they were wearing or any details like that, but I saw their shape go down the street on the bus.
Only, these shapes look different to me, but all the same. That's how I knew something was off and all these people were connected, because they have the exact same shape. I've never seen that before. The best way I can describe it is if everybody is in color like The Wizard of Oz and these people are in black and white, they dramatically stand out to me, and their behavior is very strange. She then brought up the surveillance footage. There was staring at you guys. Can you, can you say it one more time? Okay. There is a guy right there in front of the hotel that is staring at you guys.
Thank you. It was weird, right? Yes. She told him to scroll to one minute and 47 seconds. "Look at this video," she said. I recognized the pattern I am telling you about in 14 seconds. That is it, just 14 seconds from visual to assessment to action, and I did not just take action. I was right about what I was seeing. The Uber driver, who was across the street, noticed the off behavior, too. How did two people who have never met or spoken to each other before see the same thing from two very different perspectives so quickly? He told me the Uber driver was remarkable for what she did, and that I was equally as remarkable for recognizing it in the first place and for having the presence of mind to get the surveillance footage.
I told him it wasn't easy and that I had a lot more than what I posted on YouTube. He wrapped the session by asking if we could do the same time next week. Trusting in the process, I said yes, but I was frustrated and I was not exactly hiding it, which considering I was sitting across from a human lie detector was, it was probably not my best move. After her session, Jeff asked if she got her answer. She told him no, only more questions. She still did not have a profile. She wanted a piece of paper that said, "This is the personality type you are dealing with," so she could move on to whatever the next step was.
There is not exactly a manual for this life experience. The following Sunday, Jen woke up with a fit of rage. She was regretting life decisions she had made. The thought pattern was so unlike her that she decided the best thing to do was take herself on a date and reintroduce her actual self to herself. She did not care if someone was watching. She wanted them to know she looked damn good in her Doc Marten combat boots, her captain's hat, and a cat dress. As an INTJ, she makes plans to be spontaneous. She parked in Koreatown and decided to see where the wind took her.
She made a conscious decision to not live in fear, but to be aware. A few blocks down, she looked up and saw Mo's House of Axe. Well, she might need to use an axe on someone someday, so she might as well start practicing what it is like to throw one. I was paired with Jess, a dancer, who raised an eyebrow when she found out I was there alone on a Sunday afternoon. Fair, I thought. Throwing an axe at a board you are imagining is someone's face turns out to be quite remarkably effective at releasing anger and somewhere in between the rounds, Jess opened up about her own frustrations.
Not with her ability as a dancer. She was confident in that. It was in the marketing of herself that had her stuck. "Girl, you are talking to the wrong person about that," I told her. And then for the first time in a very long time, I told someone I did not know my actual story. Not the gang stalking, that's boring, but my actual story. I worked hard, I'm good at what I do, and I am shameless about it because you have to be. No one else is gonna do that part for you. You have to be your own biggest cheerleader.
The axe throwing session lasted about seventy-five minutes and was just as physically exhausting as a session with the human lie detector was mentally. She said goodbye to her new friend and walked up the road to Blipsy's Arcade. Quarters. Margarita. She nearly teared up at how normal it all felt. No nine one one calls, no safety exits, all by herself for the first time in a very long time. Then something shiny caught her eye. Chase HQ, a vintage arcade game where you drive an unmarked police car and catch criminals. Appreciating the nod to art imitating life, she put in a quarter.
Thirty minutes later, a loud "Whoa" erupted from behind her. She finished what she thought was just another level. Applause broke out from every direction. Letters flashed across the screen. "High score." She turned around, surprised at the attention. "She beat it. She is the first one to actually beat it." I stood there stunned. I had never beaten an arcade game inside an arcade in my entire life. A curtain between the pinball machines opened and a woman came out and physically patted me on the back and gave me a high five. Not knowing what to do next, uh, I just sat down at the bar and explained to the guys next to me how I did it.
"This game has a lot of patterns," I told them. I said I could recognize the patterns and how it was programmed. I could spot the difference in each of the vehicles and the scenery and just knew how to adjust. I've never even played this game before. The men and the female bartender were stunned. Jen explained that she had also been axe throwing earlier that day, and that she figured it had helped with her hand and eye coordination. The bartender stopped and stared at her. "I'm sorry, did you just say you were axe throwing before this?" Jen said yes. The bartender laughed.
I then started texting my husband, maid of honor, and laser physicist best friend. I knew Jeff and my maid of honor would be proud, but the physicist would actually understand the pattern recognition piece. He laughed when I told him one of the guys at the bar had complimented my hand and eye coordination. "I'm sure he did," he said, "and I'm sure that's exactly what he was focused on." Still buzzing, I turned back to the group and blurted out, "Do you guys know about the dive bar down the street?" One of the men looked at me, it turned out he was the owner of Blipsy's, and said, "Uh, yeah, I'm on the jukebox. Who do you know over there?" He asked with just a hint of challenge in it.
Jen mentioned her friend, the laser physicist. His jaw dropped. "How do you know them? Nobody knows them." "They are a lot more social now, but yes, I pulled them out of their shell. That's actually who I was just texting." She turned her phone around. He smiled. He then mentioned another name, the laser physicist's best friend, who unfortunately had passed away a few months before. Jen shared the news gently as the owner became visibly upset. There had been a falling out between the two Koreatown bar owners nearly a decade ago. Jen messaged her best friend the owner's name, which he immediately recognized with excitement.
Without planning any of it, Jen was able to help the now grieving bar owner back to people who were excited to welcome him back. Jen walked in angry and walked out whole. In the span of a single Sunday, she threw axes, beat an arcade game no one had ever beaten, and quietly reconnected a grieving man with chosen family he had not spoken to in years, without even trying. She had yet another credible witness to what she had been living through. She had a series of synchronicities so specific they defy any reasonable explanation, and she had herself back. That is Jen.
That has always been Jen. The woman who sees what other people miss, who connects dots no one else is even looking at, who walks into a room just trying to survive and somehow ends up changing it. The human lie detector is back next week. The sessions get deeper, the answers get closer, and let's just say the gloves are off.
