A beginners guide for contacting women

[liliput1]

Sorry in advance, but you should know by know that I love telling little stories.

By the way, what I’ve been rambling about here works surprisingly well in real life, too. Allow me to provide a textbook example of how one can—with absolutely no ill intent—sprint headfirst into a pile of manure.
I’m getting a new boss: a divisional head to whom I’ll report directly. This isn't a tragedy in itself; my old boss was getting a bit threadbare. He was essentially replaced like a tatty old rug that’s become too eyesore-inducing to keep in the foyer. Well, not quite—he actually resigned to become Managing Director at a friend's firm. But I digress.
The "New Guy" popped in today for a pre-emptive introduction in the MD’s anteroom. I arrived slightly early and busied myself making tea for a colleague and myself in the kitchenette. By the time I finished, everyone had migrated to the boardroom. I wasn’t late; I was precisely on time.
I handed my colleague his cuppa and was just about to sit down when the New Guy piped up, asking if he might get one too.
"Naturally, with pleasure," I replied.
So, I whipped up another brew while listening to the introductions through the open door. I served the tea and took a seat at the back of the room. The New Guy gave me a rather quizzical look but maintained a dignified silence.
Then came the "getting to know you" round. It dragged on, largely because one department head—who clearly wishes his tackle were as massive as his ego—recounted his "countless successes" in excruciating detail.
By the time it was finally my turn, the New Guy had suddenly discovered the virtues of time management.
"We already know each other," he noted dismissively.
I certainly got that impression. At this point, my colleagues began casting the first of many terror-stricken glances in my direction.
Then, the New Guy unveiled his vision for the future. To put it briefly: we all have a lot to learn, given that we evidently have vast, echoing canyons of room for improvement. He seemed particularly chuffed with a little manual recommended to him by some regulatory body. Since you can’t actually buy this book in shops, he was visibly proud of having "tracked it down."
By now, the nervous glances from my colleagues were reaching a fever pitch.
My coworkers asked a few pedestrian questions about logistics. The New Guy seemed genuinely disappointed that no one asked anything technical, or inquired about who would be leading the training sessions.
I tried to ask a question.
I wasn't allowed. Apparently, we were "pushed for time."
Right.
As the whole charade reached its merciful conclusion and I was about to make my escape, our MD strolled in.
"Has everyone been introduced?"
They had. Except for me.
Then the conversation drifted toward the planned training.
"Oh, that book?" the MD said. "Yes, the Head of Development wrote that. Anna—she’s sitting right there in the corner."
I am breathlessly waiting to see if I shall be "trained" using a book that I, myself, wrote.

You should autograph his copy when he’s not looking