Well, Señor Jefé, when I began working, you tried to make me comfortable in this new town. I’ll give you that.
About two months into my tenure and every Friday around 3 o’clock, you’d routinely plop – PLOP!—yourself down in my office chair and blurt, “So, what are we doing tonight for Date Night?”
Thank goodness for you I guessed you didn’t mean you and me, but rather, my spouse and I.
Yeah, I played along at first, letting you know where we were going to eat or what activity we might do that evening. Then it got to be way too much and uncomfortable for me.
I don’t mind sharing some of the things I do outside of work, but you were becoming much too nosey. If you had any inclination to listen to me – really listen – you’d find that I cherish my private time outside of work and like to keep most of it between my spouse, my family, and my friends, AND that I like to do much, much more that eating. Oh, so much more than eating! But then, you seem to have an obsession with eating.
Your loss, Señor Jefé.
©Dear Colleague and all works within.