So Cecelia is now six. I was not with her for her birthday. She was with her dad's parents in Maryland. When I get pictures, I will share them. We are also not having her birthday until she and Dylan are both home. Right now she is in Chicago at the American Girl Factory picking out her American Girl Doll. She and Dylan have birthdays a day apart and will be forced to come to agreeance on the terms of cake. He likes carrot, she likes chocolate, I do not see a particularly pleasing combination of the two... I will take pictures then as well. I am excited though. I remember 6 being a particularly fun year. We will see.
Little bit of office drama. I keep a jar of condoms on my desk. They make me happy. Especially when my boss lady continually goes on trips to National and International STD conferences and brings bowlfuls back. Since she and her partner do not need such, and her other researcher is married, I am the target for receiving mass quantities of prophylactics. At first, I politely declined. Then I got a candy jar and started filling it. It is now bursting at the seams and I have the option of using the colored condoms to carefully construct and appealing desk caddy. Makes me happy By George. That is, until a week and a half ago.I have just moved out of a cubicle-ridden holding tank, into an office with another coworker. While Sheena and I once again are in pre-fab modular furniture, we have a window, frosted glass dividers, a conference table, and security clearance. Very snazzy indeed. All was well in the world until a bunch of fratastic good ol' boys came to assemble our new furniture. Since we were kicked out of the room they had the run of the place. And they used it. Not a single thing was disturbed, save my jar of condoms. Would you believe the little brats stole all the colored condoms. Didn't take the female condoms. Didn't take the ribbed ones. Didn't take the flavored ones. Just the colors- green mainly. Left my one red one in the front like I had it.
I laughed, but it pissed me off to be honest. So I called their supervisor, who happens to be the owner's son. I am not naming names here, but these boys work at the only office supply store in town and the owners give off a rather polished, uptight old Starkville feel. He was a bit horrified. The statement "I'm sorry, you are missing your what?" was uttered after a rather lengthy pause. I repeated, "I am missing most of the colored condoms from the candy jar on my desk." He assured me it would be dealt with promptly.
Later the next day I had a rather red-faced young man apologize and tell me the grandiose bullsh*t story that they accidentally knocked over the jar, the condoms fell out, and they put them back in. If I was missing any, they were probably in the boxes I had yet to unpack. Yeah, right. I knew the story is crap, he knew the story is crap. He just has to deal with the fallout of a bad prank gone wrong. Seriously, who wouldn't notice that one of the two personal trinkets on their desk was tampered with? I thanked him for apologizing and moved on.
Sheena brought me more the next day. But the story isn't over. No, a few days later when the guys came back to repair some of the furniture that was damaged during assembly, the condoms mysteriously "reappeared" in one of the boxes that I know for a fact was condom free. And when owner came back to make sure we were satisfied, he asked if I had "Found those things that had been misplaced." Those little brats planted them back in my stuff. It is funny, Sheena can't believe I called them out on it.
I just wish I was a fly on the wall when he went to go talk to them!
2 comments:
As I was reading, I was excited that the boys would possibly be USING the condoms. After all, in the free chain-of-events that landed them on your desk, it was all with STD prevention as the goal. While I never suffered from the embarrassment-syndrome of procuring prophylactics (I used to buy them for lots of people, as a matter of fact), it is usually very difficult for most guys to get them. Certainly, ASKING a woman for them would have been near-impossible. Usually, a jar of something (candy, pens, etc.) on a desk means "take some." Perhaps you could find a way to get the boys a bag-full the next time a supply finds its way to your office. After all, they are better used than observed......
HAHAHAHA! Even though you called me to share part 1 of the story, the fact "they were planted" in a box upon the repair visit is just too funny. I'm with you on being a fly on the wall when the boss confronted them! Too funny!
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