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The Thing With the Stalker
There was this--thing. It barely qualifies as an incident. It hardly works as an anecdote. But if I'm going to be made fun of at work, it's something.
There was this--guy. At work. A client, one might optimistically call him, who was *very pleased* to see me, and--yeah. When I came into the lobby to get antoher client. He says I interviewed him a long time ago. I believe him, because it's beginning to feel like I have met every lower income person in the state, so really, who knows? He commented on how good I look. Yeah, that should have been a warning--one, I don't look good and know it, and two--two, who the hell tells thier caseworker that? It's like that guy I interviewed who kept commenting on how closed off I was and how I must have been hurt by a boyfriend to be so closed off. Because I need to be psychoanalyzed while asking about someone's income and resources.
I...just got off track.
Anyway, picked up my client and nodded at Strange Guy telling me he hopes I'd be the one interviewing him. Again, not a warning signal.
So flash to ten minutes later. I look up to see him at my door--at my door WAVING of all things. Then he moved off when he saw I was with a client, and I kind of blinked and thought, huh, he must have gotten someone to interview him.
A few minutes later, S comes into my office.
"Jenn, there's a guy in my office."
I didn't make any kind of bad joke. God apparently held my tongue in check. I nodded encouragingly.
"He says your'e interviewing him."
That was new. "What?"
"He wants you to interview him. Um, whatshould I do?"
"Call security. Also, how did he get back here?"
S went to get J which, if you read here much, was the Hero of the Day during that distant time that Crazy Guy got into the office. Security was eventually called, but J is bigger and scarier, so he escorted the client out, who was quite adamant that I should be interviewing him.
Yeah. That was interesting.
In Which I Admit an Uncontrollable Addiction
Hmm. Sixty something stories since Tuesday. It's not even a thing I can like, think about. I get on my computer and instantly wandering through Wraithbait. I can't make myself close the archive. I *tried*. And could not.
This? This cannot be a good sign.
Though if you wanted to rec, I wouldn't like, mind or anything. I'm just nice like that.
See the flying squirrel? Isn't she cool!
There was this--thing. It barely qualifies as an incident. It hardly works as an anecdote. But if I'm going to be made fun of at work, it's something.
There was this--guy. At work. A client, one might optimistically call him, who was *very pleased* to see me, and--yeah. When I came into the lobby to get antoher client. He says I interviewed him a long time ago. I believe him, because it's beginning to feel like I have met every lower income person in the state, so really, who knows? He commented on how good I look. Yeah, that should have been a warning--one, I don't look good and know it, and two--two, who the hell tells thier caseworker that? It's like that guy I interviewed who kept commenting on how closed off I was and how I must have been hurt by a boyfriend to be so closed off. Because I need to be psychoanalyzed while asking about someone's income and resources.
I...just got off track.
Anyway, picked up my client and nodded at Strange Guy telling me he hopes I'd be the one interviewing him. Again, not a warning signal.
So flash to ten minutes later. I look up to see him at my door--at my door WAVING of all things. Then he moved off when he saw I was with a client, and I kind of blinked and thought, huh, he must have gotten someone to interview him.
A few minutes later, S comes into my office.
"Jenn, there's a guy in my office."
I didn't make any kind of bad joke. God apparently held my tongue in check. I nodded encouragingly.
"He says your'e interviewing him."
That was new. "What?"
"He wants you to interview him. Um, whatshould I do?"
"Call security. Also, how did he get back here?"
S went to get J which, if you read here much, was the Hero of the Day during that distant time that Crazy Guy got into the office. Security was eventually called, but J is bigger and scarier, so he escorted the client out, who was quite adamant that I should be interviewing him.
Yeah. That was interesting.
In Which I Admit an Uncontrollable Addiction
Hmm. Sixty something stories since Tuesday. It's not even a thing I can like, think about. I get on my computer and instantly wandering through Wraithbait. I can't make myself close the archive. I *tried*. And could not.
This? This cannot be a good sign.
Though if you wanted to rec, I wouldn't like, mind or anything. I'm just nice like that.
See the flying squirrel? Isn't she cool!