Dear Kiss-A## Sales-guy-I-used-to-work-with,
You are not welcome. We don't want to hear from you. We didn't want you hanging outside our office doors, jangling your keys, reliving last nights episode of
The Officeverbatim each Friday morning. Our owner's family didn't want you to show up to his son's small, private, family-only wedding in Napa because you "just happened" to be on vacation in the same geographical vicinity, by which you meant "California." The looks of surprise you were getting from everyone there weren't appreciative, they were incredulous.
In the same way, my wife and I and our friends had no interest in you sidling up to our table and joining us for dinner at Outback the other night. The 4 times we said to you and your wife, "Well, have a good dinner" we did not mean "with us" we meant "at your own table, preferably on the other side of this restaurant, or, better yet, another restaurant altogether. And yet there you sat, oblivious to our discomfort and irritation.
Hope to never see you again,
facook
P.S.
Thrusting out your torso and carrying yourself in a barrel-chested posture does not make you look 5'10". You just look like a more ridiculous 5'6".