In my cubicle, on my desk, sits a little fake metal trash can (henceforth known as LFMTC), and inside it is my own personal stash of paper clips. I am not overly attached to the paper clips, but the LFMTC has some sentimental value because of my ties to public television, and I have had it for many, many years. This morning, I opened the LFMTC to grab a paper clip to fasten some papers together, and found that whereas yesterday, the can was ¾ full, today, there are only a few paper clips rattling around in the bottom of it.
Dude! Who is so hard up that they have to steal my paper clips? What is UP with that? You can buy a box of 100 at Staples for 49 cents. What is wrong with people?
Aside from that, it creeps me out that someone specifically went hunting around my desk and had to open the trash can to see what was in it and then stole something so trivial out of it. Wack job.
There’s a Metaphor in All This
In other world news, Prison called us again last night. But this time, Prison didn’t leave a message. You might think Prison is calling us because we have a very common last name and perhaps Prison is confusing us with someone else that Prison wants to call collect. But here’s the thing: we have an unlisted number.
Do you think Prison wants to borrow some paper clips? Because I’m running low.
Happy Friday, my lovelies. There’s a frosty cold beer calling my name…oh, wait, that’s just my coworker snarking about some screw-up. I’m off to get the latest office dirt. Smooches!