Well, excuse me

The other day I told you the story of a long time, elderly, part-time co-worker who engaged me in 19 minutes of unwanted and largely inescapable chatting, only to make the point that she's a worker who just comes in and works and that's all. I called her Mo because it's very close to her name but has an element of plausible deniability on the off chance I might need it. Today I have one other story about Mo. It's from at least ten years ago, but I've always treasured it.

Mo was working sorting magazines on a counter with a narrow passage behind her. Needing to make that passage I gingerly sidled behind her. She suddenly backed up into me.

"Excuse me." I said in that polite, no harm done, no liability way.

"Well you should watch where you're going." Mo said.

I may have laughed slightly, half thinking she was joking.

"No, seriously." She said, grimly. "You have to watch out for other people. Be careful."

Did I say something clever to that? Oh, no, no. What I have done is for ten years, whenever the subject of Mo comes up with a co-worker, I tell that story. It's my way of watching out for people.