Office Stories 12/14/09

8:30 a.m.
There is a heating problem in the lower level of our building. A maintenance man has been called. He has been sauntering in and out of our front door a number of times. He looks bored. He looks nonchalant. He looks like he is looking for someone who will not show up. He has come back through for the umpteenth time. Left hand in left pocket, moseying. He confidentially says to me as he wanders by, “Up and down”, as though he is weary of climbing the stairs to get from the furnace problem to his vehicle. Why is he always going to his vehicle? He is chronically empty handed when he returns.

He has just driven away. Perhaps he has realized that there is a door on the lower level.

I don’t expect him back this way again.

Pally, just fix the heat.

10:49 a.m.
Fed Ex has come to see me again. Not the delivery man. This is the Fed Ex AGENT who is still looking for a package they say I signed for, they think that it was delivered here. On Friday. December 4, 2009. By a substitute driver. Even though yes, that is my signature, we don’t have the package. I feel guilty that I can not produce this package. I feel I must have really put it somewhere and lost it. On purpose. And I don't remember. And I am responsible for it. I SIGNED FOR IT,that's the proof. Even though for real, I check the packages when they arrive, to make sure they are for us. I take the packages to Carol downstairs. Sometimes I email Carol and she picks them up from my desk. Sometimes I take them down to her at lunch time. I have already asked Carol if there are any Fed Ex packages that are not for us, lying around down there. She reports that there are not. I feel like they need to go look again. I need to produce this package for Fed Ex.

This is an important package. An International Package. From the country of Jordan. The intended recipient has already stopped in. Her name was Margaret. She told me it contained important legal papers. The papers are full of vital information, like social security numbers. She lives a couple blocks from here, and she is concerned because she can't find her package. Fed Ex told her they delivered her package to us because she was not home. That sounds odd, doesn’t it? We are pretty far from her house, I think a neighbor would have been more convenient.

The Fed Ex agent says the package contained divorce papers that are not easily duplicated in a foreign country.

I think Fed Ex is in big doo-doo, and I think poor Margaret might not be divorced from Mr. Al Badandi quite yet .

11:13 a.m.
I am the face of MC Industrial, I am the receptionist. I have plenty of spare time all day long. My dear daughter has forwarded many clever websites for me to look at, to help me wile away my hours. I am currently a fan of Hulu, and I have a long list of Christmas Release movies that I am keen to see.

Now it is 11:14 a.m.

This is going to be one happening Monday.

11:20 a.m. My earlier prediction was wrong: the furnace man just returned through the front door. He went to see our office manager. He has walked back out the doors. He is backing out of his parking space. He is driving away. On to his next appointment. Presumably. NOW I think I shall not see him again, for real. Until the next heating emergency.

11:30 a.m. Time for lunch. I'm not so much hungry as I am very bored.

11:58 a.m. A call from our Operations Secretary. She has to leave, a call from the school nurse and a sick kid. If any packages come for her, will I stick them under her desk? Sure. Got ya covered.

12:28 p.m. Chad wants to know where are the Solo brushes he ordered? I say they were in a box on top of the mailboxes last week, with no-one TO THE ATTENTION OF box. I look for them, but they are not there now.

Chad is not in the office, he asks will I send out a company wide email for their return. Certainly, is my eager reply.

The response to my email is that they are in the box that is leaning up against his office door in the hallway on the lower level, waiting for his return.

Another hot dilemna expediently extinguished by The Face of MC Industrial.

12:31 p.m. I want to loot the bag of Hershey's Miniatures of all its Mr. Goodbars.

12:45 p.m. As I open the mail I realize I hope that the guy who looks like Santa doesn't come in anymore. Frankly, he's weird, overly familiar and freaks me out.

12:31 p.m. Brad wants to know

"Liz,

What are solo brushes??

-Brad"

Liz responds:

"'Solo' is either a brand name or the brushes are very lonely.

-Liz"

I hope Brad gets my joke. (he did)

1:55 p.m. Jerry has just stopped at my desk.

"Liz" says he, "You are very sweet."

I say, "What do you want, Jerry."

Jerry replies. "No, I mean it. This is the time of year you say what is really in your heart."

Jerry turns away. "You won't be hearing this from me anymore, come January."

Give it a rest, Jer.