Crossing lines

So, I had a very busy day yesterday which included a meeting yesterday afternoon which had been running for three and a half hours and we still had about three hours more to go if we wanted to cover everything. One of the other people thought we should continue, I said no that we would have to make time at another point. If we’d carried on, I might as well not have bothered going home last night.

I was sitting at my desk at lunch time yesterday and my Australian stalker came over to speak to me. He’d left my payslip on my desk and seemed to want me to express my delight at this – even though I had already checked my payslip via our IT system and also seen the money had gone into my bank account. Anyway, for some reason he then started to make some comments about weight, at which point I told him that perhaps he should choose another subject. But being his somewhat oblivious self he just carried on and was making comments about where he thought I might be storing some extra weight. In the end I pointed out to him that somehow he always managed not just to cross a line but go over it with size twenty shoes. He still didn’t quite get that he should back off, so I just shook my head at him and returned to what I was doing. My new member of staff was sitting next to me and I have no idea what she made of the conversation, but she politely declined to make any comment.