Tuesday, October 03, 2006


Schadenfreude Follies

We came into the office to find a pair of tasseled oxblood loafers sitting on a scrap of carpet. Odd. When we walked past them it was clear that they were covered with glue. Not Elmer’s, industrial adhesive.

A bit later a rather attractive gentleman from the management company came in to take down an incident report. He had more clues for us than we did for him.

It was known that the carpet in the open area portion of our recently acquired additional office space was being replaced this morning. The contractors were to come in at 6:00 and be gone before anyone arrived at 8:30. The old carpet came up and the floor was prepped yesterday. The only person EVER in the office nearly that early does not need to cross the area in question to get to his office.

Apparently, someone we shall call “Frank Burns” came in at 6:30. Saw the carpet all bunched up in the archway between the old space and his office. He poked his head around the corner and saw the contractors spreading mastic on the floor a few feet away. Their backs were to him. He then acted on the brilliant inspiration to leap over the bunched carpet hurdle like OJ Simpson running through an airport. Needless to say the first loafer hit the glue and immediately skidded forward and skyward sending the rest of poor Frank plummeting to the glue-covered floor. The shoes were abandoned. It seems he wrapped himself in a blanket from the trunk of his car to protect the interior from the his suit-cum-glue-trap as he sped back up the shore to clean and redress himself before setting back out to a day of appointments.

I’m still laughing.

I do feel bad for the guy trying to fill out the incident report. When asked for a physical description of Frank my coworker and I argued as to whether or not he was balding. And I informed the guy that Frank had no business being in here that early and that had he showed up yesterday to pick up the stuff he called me yesterday morning to frantically request none of this would have happened.

It seems also that, according to Frank’s own statement during a recent phone conversation with my associate, not only was his suit ruined, but his boxers as well. While I feel somewhat unclean by knowing this fact or by knowing he felt compelled to share it and daren’t extrapolate how exactly it came to be, I take some delight in the idea that the glue may have begun to dry before he managed to shuck the garment in question.

A well needed kick in the gravitas has been delivered. Praise the gods that smile on us this day.

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