Scary
I was working late in the office today, and one of the security guards came round to close the windows (air-conditioning has been broken for a week now - for those hours I am in the office I am glad it’s not a nice summer this year).
He stops to chat to me about inconsequental things.
Then he asks, “Do you live in Big Jugs?”
“Erm, yes. How do you know?” I am expecting him to tell me he lives there.
Oh no.
“I used to love there, before I worked here though. I remember seeing you there.”
Now, hang on a minute. I can understand if he saw me around the office, and then saw me shopping in the neighbourhood after that. But this man saw me in the neighbourhood, and I made enough of an impression for him to move house, then move jobs, and see me in the office and recognise me.
Even worse - I mentioned my car, and he says, “Oh, your megane?”
My old car. The one that gets parked in the offside carpark, which he has nothing to do with.
I am a little worried.