Plastic Egg Pandemonium
(Another tidbit from the anals of Crazytigerrabbitlore, written approximately three years ago while working at the same place of employement for which I am still climbing the Corporate ranks. It's funny because, sadly, it's all true.)
Now it's no secret at my workplace of, say, four hundred or so, that I am somewhat unorthodox when it comes to my professional conduct at work. This is not to suggest that I am some slacking dipshit in Doc Martin’s trying to pan off his flannel jacket as business casual; nor am I doing my job ineffectually in the slightest. I just happen to believe in making the workplace as enjoyable an experience as possible to as many people around me as possible. And if I have to deliberately break company fire policies and risk torching the place (which is, sadly enough, constructed almost completely out of painted concrete) with the odd candlelit dinner in the cafeteria – so be it!
The team managers in my work area have all come to respect my particular brand of "stress relievers" throughout the workday – albeit, they may not always understand, or participate in them. At any given time, I will stand up at my workstation and perform the chicken dance whenever I get a particularly stupid customer on the phone, or I will hold up signs such as "Does Anybody Speak Ancient Swahili", or “Who Farted?” just to, you know, lighten up the moment somewhat. I would prefer to have people laugh at me and know what they are laughing at rather than have them snicker and talk in whispers behind my back when I fall off my swivel chair after too many bong hits on my lunch hour.
I learned at an early age the importance of the subtle art of deflecting negative attention from oneself. I'm like a publicity ninja.
Anyway, today’s office prank got a little out of control in the same way that Apollo 13 did. It all started innocently enough when I found this small pink plastic egg at the bus stop on my way to work. I picked it up, being stoned and curious as I was at the time, and proceeded to juggle with it while riding the bus to work, and then again some more in the cafeteria at work.
Co-workers then started to get curious about my pink egg. It wasn't anywhere near Easter and yet here was a grown man playing with a pink plastic egg. One by one, they kept coming up and asking me what the pink plastic egg was all about. To which I would only offer back in reply: "I don't know, they gave it to me at the door. Didn’t you get one?" I never thought that anybody would ever be so stupid to take me seriously.
Apparently, the true meaning of the suspicious unexplained egg circulated the workplace floor among my work peers quicker than Rosie McDonnell through a box of powdered breakfast donuts.
By noontime rumors had began to circulate that my pink plastic egg was actually intended for a draw to be made at the end of the night for some major prize or sales incentive or something. So everybody had begun to panic when they suddenly realized that they had been overlooked in getting their own pink plastic eggs at the door when they too had arrived at work that morning.
Never underestimate the power of paranoia to corrupt the human mind.
Before you know it, I was summoned to the company’s security desk and was questioned by two guards under bright lights about, as they put it: "this stupid pink egg thing". I swear, I thought I heard the sound the stretching and twisting of plastic tubing in the background as they worked me over with their questions for over an hour. I mean, honestly, how many questions can you ask about a plastic fucking egg?
Apparently, a lot of people, approximately over two hundred or so, had stormed the businesses front desk inquiring why they weren't also given their pink plastic egg for the big draw that night – all, so far, still unbeknownst to me. The poor secretary had been swamped with these concerned office freaks all demanding pink plastic eggs. It was then, in an heated riot that I was fingered by these same greedy “colleagues” (and I use that term loosely) as "inciting an unproductive disturbance in the workplace" and was thus issued my first corrective action.
Lesson learned. NEVER pick up plastic eggs, particularly pink ones, at bus stops before going to work.
I will just have to stick to scaring all the Kenyan women about the threat of deadly Canadian snow snakes whenever we get heavy snowfalls.
Now it's no secret at my workplace of, say, four hundred or so, that I am somewhat unorthodox when it comes to my professional conduct at work. This is not to suggest that I am some slacking dipshit in Doc Martin’s trying to pan off his flannel jacket as business casual; nor am I doing my job ineffectually in the slightest. I just happen to believe in making the workplace as enjoyable an experience as possible to as many people around me as possible. And if I have to deliberately break company fire policies and risk torching the place (which is, sadly enough, constructed almost completely out of painted concrete) with the odd candlelit dinner in the cafeteria – so be it!
The team managers in my work area have all come to respect my particular brand of "stress relievers" throughout the workday – albeit, they may not always understand, or participate in them. At any given time, I will stand up at my workstation and perform the chicken dance whenever I get a particularly stupid customer on the phone, or I will hold up signs such as "Does Anybody Speak Ancient Swahili", or “Who Farted?” just to, you know, lighten up the moment somewhat. I would prefer to have people laugh at me and know what they are laughing at rather than have them snicker and talk in whispers behind my back when I fall off my swivel chair after too many bong hits on my lunch hour.
I learned at an early age the importance of the subtle art of deflecting negative attention from oneself. I'm like a publicity ninja.
Anyway, today’s office prank got a little out of control in the same way that Apollo 13 did. It all started innocently enough when I found this small pink plastic egg at the bus stop on my way to work. I picked it up, being stoned and curious as I was at the time, and proceeded to juggle with it while riding the bus to work, and then again some more in the cafeteria at work.
Co-workers then started to get curious about my pink egg. It wasn't anywhere near Easter and yet here was a grown man playing with a pink plastic egg. One by one, they kept coming up and asking me what the pink plastic egg was all about. To which I would only offer back in reply: "I don't know, they gave it to me at the door. Didn’t you get one?" I never thought that anybody would ever be so stupid to take me seriously.
Apparently, the true meaning of the suspicious unexplained egg circulated the workplace floor among my work peers quicker than Rosie McDonnell through a box of powdered breakfast donuts.
By noontime rumors had began to circulate that my pink plastic egg was actually intended for a draw to be made at the end of the night for some major prize or sales incentive or something. So everybody had begun to panic when they suddenly realized that they had been overlooked in getting their own pink plastic eggs at the door when they too had arrived at work that morning.
Never underestimate the power of paranoia to corrupt the human mind.
Before you know it, I was summoned to the company’s security desk and was questioned by two guards under bright lights about, as they put it: "this stupid pink egg thing". I swear, I thought I heard the sound the stretching and twisting of plastic tubing in the background as they worked me over with their questions for over an hour. I mean, honestly, how many questions can you ask about a plastic fucking egg?
Apparently, a lot of people, approximately over two hundred or so, had stormed the businesses front desk inquiring why they weren't also given their pink plastic egg for the big draw that night – all, so far, still unbeknownst to me. The poor secretary had been swamped with these concerned office freaks all demanding pink plastic eggs. It was then, in an heated riot that I was fingered by these same greedy “colleagues” (and I use that term loosely) as "inciting an unproductive disturbance in the workplace" and was thus issued my first corrective action.
Lesson learned. NEVER pick up plastic eggs, particularly pink ones, at bus stops before going to work.
I will just have to stick to scaring all the Kenyan women about the threat of deadly Canadian snow snakes whenever we get heavy snowfalls.
3 Comments:
Ah, the rumors. While pregnant with my daughter I tripped in a pot hole and fell to my knees in the parking lot. I was taken to the first aid room, treated for a scraped knee and then sent home just in case. When I came back 2 days later people walked up to me and asked, very concerned, about how the baby was. Apparently they'd heard that I had fallen, very hard, right on my stomache, gone into early labour and had to be rushed off to the hospital by ambulance....
The prize at the end of the day?
Being repremanded for having the pink egg.
That'll teach ya...
Read thru some of yer stuff...you are hugely funny...gut busting...or is that butt gusting??
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