I saw her from across the room, which—given my physical stature—is not so unusual.
She never knew this (until now), but I stalked her that day.
I had never seen her before, but I had noticed her name tag, and I had identified my target. As I watched her move around the convention center floor, I waited to pounce, positioning myself on the other side of a large pillar. When she turned the corner, I stepped out and thrust my 235 pounds of towering height right in front of her.
Sandra D’Italia was a diminutive woman, but much like Craig Bell, she possessed a presence that belied her petite size. Indeed, my plan succeeded. She walked right into me, slammed her face into my chest, went flying backward, and hit the floor.
I had just intentionally blocked the poor woman’s path and unintentionally knocked her on her derriere. Thankful that I had not injured her, I extended my hand, and while helping her get off the floor and back on her feet, I exclaimed with feigned surprise, “Hey, you’re Sandra D’Italia aren’t you?” “Yes,” she reluctantly replied, not sure who I was and still stunned from her encounter with my chest. I introduced myself, explaining that I was the guy who had called her office once a week for the past nine months, with nary a single returned phone call. I was the guy who had sent one letter each month, pleading my case to become an Associate Trader at the firm where Sandra worked, the venerable Commodities Corporation (CC) in Princeton, New Jersey. ...