My instinctual reaction to anyone trying to talk to me on the street (whether it's "Accept Jesus Christ Lest Ye Burn In Hell," "How About A Free Stress Test?" or "Where Do You Get Your Hair Done?") is to shake my head and walk away quickly -- the standard NYC "If I can ignore you, you can't bother me" response. I'm usually halfway down the block before I fully process what it was they were trying to say.

The only time it really, REALLY bugs me is when it happens at work. Having one of your project managers walk into your office and say "I want you to know that every Sunday I pray for you to accept Jesus into your heart, because you're a bright girl with so much to offer the world" is unnerving.

See, now that's harassment. Someone at work once told me he prayed for me every night. I told him to cut it out.

See, now that's harassment.

Word. On the street is one thing -- you can't ban rude people from the streets. (Unfortunately.) But there's no reason you should have to put up with that at work.

At work? Oh, that is of the ick and the uck and the bordering on seriously crossing the line, if not right over and past it.

You're a good, kind person, creative, witty, good to your parents and a loving partner to Pete, who puts a lot of energy into being generous and supportive of your friends and deliciously enriching the visual surroundings of every person lucky enough to gaze upon you. I can't think what else your project manager expects you to offer the world, or why your project manager thinks s/he knows what Jesus expects of you -- really, you're already easily in the 98th percentile for all of humanity. I can't imagine any God looking upon you and not feeling fond and proud and a little amazed.

Which, incidentally, goes for all the Buffistas.

Kimono for your 4G iPod.

I can't imagine any God looking upon you and not feeling fond and proud and a little amazed.

God, looking at Jilli: I did that? Cool.

See, now that's harassment.

Per-zactly.

Kimono for your 4G iPod.

I'm very sad that it doesn't have the sleeves or the obi.

t smooches JZ

I can understand praying to be like Jilli; praying for her, NSM.

My sister's doctor offered to pray for her. My sister, being acutely non-confrontational, declined to file any complaints, but it made her uncomfortable enough that she stopped going to the doctor (it's a pain in the rear to get a new one in her plan, so when I say stopped going to the doctor, I mean stopped going to any doctor, which is bad when you're an overweight smoker in her mid-40s).

I don't recall people offering to pray for me out of the blue, but I also didn't have a single stranger pat my belly when I was pregnant, so I think I just give off a "stay away!" vibe.

I understand praying for people, even -- like Aimee said, not praying they'll find Jesus or whatever, just praying that things are OK for them.