The Colleague Who Doesn't Read the Step-Back

You step back. They step forward. You step back again. They close the gap again. At some point you run out of room and have to decide whether you're going to say something or continue having this conversation with your back against a wall.

Most people have a colleague who operates this way. Close talker is the casual term, though proximity is only part of it. It's the person whose physical presence expands into whatever space you create, who manages to be in contact with your arm or shoulder during conversations that don't require it, who doesn't register the signals you're sending because they're not looking for them.

What non-verbal signals actually communicate

The step back is supposed to say: you are too close. For most people, it works. They adjust. The distance corrects. The conversation continues.

The problem is that reading these signals requires noticing them, and some people genuinely don't. They're focused on the content of the conversation, or they're naturally physical communicators who fill space without being aware of it, or they grew up in an environment where these particular signals weren't consistently given or received. The obliviousness is real.

A friend described a colleague who would consistently move to stand beside her rather than across from her during any conversation, angling in so that they were shoulder to shoulder facing the same direction. She found this invasive. He described himself later, when the subject came up, as a "side-by-side person" who found face-to-face conversation confrontational. He had no idea she'd spent two years angling away from him in meetings. He was genuinely surprised.

That story has a relatively good ending. The version where the person knows exactly what they're doing and prefers not to acknowledge it is a different story, and requires a different response.

When words become necessary

You've stepped back. You've angled your body. You've put objects between yourself and the other person. None of it has worked. Now you need to say something.

"Can you give me a bit more room?" is enough. It's not an accusation. It asks for something specific. Most people, even the genuinely oblivious ones, will adjust when asked directly and without drama.

The version that doesn't work is the heavily softened approach: "I don't know if you've noticed but sometimes I feel a little..." This hands the other person the narrative. They can decide you misunderstood. They can explain that they didn't mean anything. The conversation becomes about their intentions rather than about the thing you need to change.

Say what you want, not what you feel. "Can you give me a bit more room" is a request. "I feel uncomfortable when you stand this close" opens a discussion that might go anywhere.

What happens next

If they adjust: the conversation is over. You'll probably have to do it again eventually, with someone else if not this person. The skill is worth having.

If they don't adjust, or if they adjust briefly and then drift back: you'll need to say it again, more directly. "I asked you to give me more room and you're still standing this close." That's firmer. It names that you said something and it didn't land. Most people will respond to this.

If the behavior is consistent and deliberate, and persists after two clear requests, it's no longer a communication problem. It's a conduct problem, and it belongs in the category of things you document and potentially escalate.

The thing about being wrong

Occasionally you will say something and it will turn out the person genuinely didn't know. They'll be embarrassed. The conversation will be a little awkward for a moment. And then you'll have a colleague who knows how to be in a conversation with you.

That outcome, the momentarily awkward one that produces a better working relationship, is significantly better than the alternative of managing around a problem indefinitely. I've been in both situations. The awkward conversation with the actual resolution is the better outcome every time.