Saturday, September 26, 2009

I got Sean Conneried

As semi-regular readers know, I used to have a boss I call man hands. He's a giant man who has issues with touching other people. Including me.

I farewelled him and his dinner plate sized wrist ends many months ago and thought I'd never see him again.

Alas the universe had other ideas and even though man hands is in another completely separate part of my org, he now works on my floor and on the way to my desk - unless I take a long way around.

Which means of course in the communal areas of my floor I unfortunately still have to engage in social niceties like the head dip of acknowledgment when I see him.

I also have to use the same toilet segment as him.

The other day I was heading out the door of the toilets, as he was coming in. We squeezed past each other. As we did, he said 'Oh, gidday mate', then gave me a pat.

On my lower back.

If his height hadn't been so great, and mine not, that pat would have been a lower cheek arse touch - just like Connery as Bond in the 60s versions of the films.

I am not meat for the consumption of others! I reject unwanted touching - be it from man hands or any other person.

He's got to learn to keep is fucking wrist ends to himself.

We have annual 'how not to piss each other off' training that is mandatory to all. Maybe a polite suggestion to the relevant area about including a fucking slide on 'don't ogle, don't fucking touch' is in order.

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