And in other news, the body of Office Drudge and Energetic Dancer Pearl was discovered locked in the 42nd floor bathroom late Tuesday afternoon.
Reduced to stopping up the sinks for amusement and writing the lyrics to “Me and Bobby McGee” in lipstick on the bathroom mirrors, her prostrate form was found just inside the door.
“That’ll teach her to forget her key card,” muttered Facilities.
Coworkers, colleagues, superiors, and free-food hopefuls met this morning over yesterday’s bagels to discuss her many attributes and maximize their coffee breaks in work-appropriate shows of anguish.
“She was a snappy dresser, I’ll give her that much,” intones one member of the shipping department.
“Who uses the 42nd floor bathroom anyway?”
“She owed me a lunch,” mutters an associate.
“Speaking of lunch, she ever give you that tired old speech on her stand regarding the word “coworker”?”
“I NEVER ORKED A COW IN MY WHOLE LIFE,” shouts several admins.
Blinded by leftover bagels and unstructured time, the room goes silent.
“Wait a minute,” interjects Little Miss She-Owes-Me-Lunch. “Who dies from being locked in the bathroom?”
“Who said anything about her being dead?”
Confused looks are exchanged.
“She’s not dead?”
“Nah. We just found her stretched out on the floor, singing Janis Joplin songs. Apparently she didn’t know the room locks itself.”
“Poor thing,” says a representative from Accounting. “I heard they found her with lipstick smeared all over her face.”
Blank stares all around.
“You know, to conserve moisture.”
Concurrent comments break the solemnity of the occasion.
“She wasn’t in a desert, ya maroon.”
“Gah.”
“Shaddap.”
“Go back to yer desk…”
The room falls silent.
“So where is she now?”
The room erupts in commentary again.
“At her desk, of course.”
“She went back to the 42nd floor bathroom for some alone time!”
“She’s with the plumber – he’s come to fix the sink!!”
“Well I’m not covering for her.”
And with that, the memorial group disbands.
Reduced to stopping up the sinks for amusement and writing the lyrics to “Me and Bobby McGee” in lipstick on the bathroom mirrors, her prostrate form was found just inside the door.
“That’ll teach her to forget her key card,” muttered Facilities.
Coworkers, colleagues, superiors, and free-food hopefuls met this morning over yesterday’s bagels to discuss her many attributes and maximize their coffee breaks in work-appropriate shows of anguish.
“She was a snappy dresser, I’ll give her that much,” intones one member of the shipping department.
“Who uses the 42nd floor bathroom anyway?”
“She owed me a lunch,” mutters an associate.
“Speaking of lunch, she ever give you that tired old speech on her stand regarding the word “coworker”?”
“I NEVER ORKED A COW IN MY WHOLE LIFE,” shouts several admins.
Blinded by leftover bagels and unstructured time, the room goes silent.
“Wait a minute,” interjects Little Miss She-Owes-Me-Lunch. “Who dies from being locked in the bathroom?”
“Who said anything about her being dead?”
Confused looks are exchanged.
“She’s not dead?”
“Nah. We just found her stretched out on the floor, singing Janis Joplin songs. Apparently she didn’t know the room locks itself.”
“Poor thing,” says a representative from Accounting. “I heard they found her with lipstick smeared all over her face.”
Blank stares all around.
“You know, to conserve moisture.”
Concurrent comments break the solemnity of the occasion.
“She wasn’t in a desert, ya maroon.”
“Gah.”
“Shaddap.”
“Go back to yer desk…”
The room falls silent.
“So where is she now?”
The room erupts in commentary again.
“At her desk, of course.”
“She went back to the 42nd floor bathroom for some alone time!”
“She’s with the plumber – he’s come to fix the sink!!”
“Well I’m not covering for her.”
And with that, the memorial group disbands.
.jpg)
23 comments:
Pearl, Pearl, don't DO this to us. I'd already put my dark suit on, and selected a really sombre tie. A photo, you say? Pffft, you wish. Roth x
I didn't realize my former firm had an office in your fair city. I fear for you.
And just like that, your fifteen minutes of fame (and a few bagels) are used up. True mourning starts now . . .
Hari Om
Never mind the elegy, here's the "pearlquiem"...
Apart from the fact it was clearly Pearl's writing, she had us going there for all of 87 seconds. She would be missed if she gave us the chance but it seems that there will be service as normal on the morrow!!
Stay. Off. The. 42nd. Floor.
Pearl--Every day, it's a different adventure for you...
Better watch your stuff. If they think you are dead your stapler, keyboard and chair will go missing.
Pearl, you're among the few who can make me laugh out loud by written word. And I'm glad the cows were left unorked.
I have always stood four-square against the orking of cows.
:-)
Stopped in to read comments, pop over to a couple blogs. Thursdays are always a very busy day for me, but I do like to see what's up. :-)
Excellent :)
And now we know how office washroom sinks REALLY get stopped up. They're full of boredom and desperation :)
Oooh, I was amused by the familiarity of what you wrote, and now just a little blown away by Jenny O's comment. Have I mentioned I'm glad I'm retired?
Oops! A lesson learned the hard way ;-)
Just exactly how does one Ork a cow anyway?
Like others, I am intrigued by the thought of orking a cow. It sounds both difficult and uncomfortable. And possibly dangerous.
Your brain sure is a fun place for a gathering.
Ahh your coworkers are jealous. Did you wet toilet paper and toss it at the ceiling?
River & E's Child, I guessing ti starts with "standing 4 square"
Aargh! Just found you and now must read you. You go back five years, I have a lot of reading to do.
Poor Pearl, she was so naive that she thought people really did say nice things about you when you've gone to the other side..
..of the room
Pearl Dear you need another intern.
Hee hee! I never orked a cow in my whole life! Happy madness :)
Oh my! In most states orking cows (and all other barnyard animals is against the law)!
Keep that 42nd floor bathroom as your own private space to ruminate (not thinking of cows here)...just remember your pass card.
Post a Comment