I didn’t mind sharing the news with you that I bought a house. I was happy about it. You asked where it was, I mentioned the cross streets, and that was that.
A couple of days later, you proudly told me that you rode your (pseudo) motorcycle to my house, and said that now you “knew where I live.”
Oh, yes, you nailed the right house, because the for sale sign was still up.
That really scared me and, of course, I told my spouse. Never in my career had a co-worker or supervisor blatantly tell me he made it a point to physically check out where I lived.
This is about the time, coupled with the twenty questions about my date nights with my spouse that I knew you had a screw loose.
©Dear Colleague and all works within.