Dreamaticus

On a Sunday morning I found XY lying in a bed at my flat. He was there because Mansfield Church was fully booked. I could hardly bear to be in his company and wondered out loud how long we would be obliged to put up with him. Given it was a Sunday, shouldn’t he and his family all be out at worship?

XY opened a newspaper and pointed to a column that showed that the service and all other associated devotional activities started after noon. In the meantime we were lumbered with him. Fortunately, however, there would be room for him to stay at the church that night, so once he was gone, that would be it.

In the meantime he whinged about an event that he was organising and my failure to promote it. He clearly wanted a PA, but I was not going to be bullied into that role. As far as I was concerned he was responsible for his own marketing and communications, from pinning up posters to a full-blown social media campaign.

I eventually escaped when it was time for me to start a seminar on research methods. I welcomed the delegates, made their badges, recommended reading, and invited them to enter the prize draw.