It seems that my missing stress ball at work has returned–and, I have to admit–I got got. I hate getting got. I prefer doing the getting. But never let it be said that I can’t take a joke. (for Part I of this story, see my blog from Nov. 27).
If you recall from the previous blog, one of the writers I supervise, in a little bit of revenge pranking, snatched my squeezy stress ball from my desk–which I use to full advantage on a regular basis–and hid it somewhere nearby. Of course, I figuIt seems that my missing stress ball at work has returned–and, I have to admit–I got got. I hate getting got. I prefer doing the getting. But never let it be said that I can’t take a joke. (for Part I of this story, see my blog from Nov. 27).
If you recall from the previous blog, one of the writers I supervise, in a little bit of revenge pranking, snatched my squeezy stress ball from my desk–which I use to full advantage on a regular basis–and hid it somewhere nearby. Of course, I figured that I would find it with relative ease. I checked nearby, not putting too much effort into it, 1), because I had a backup (tennis ball, which works, but not as well), and 2), because (and let’s face it), I didn’t want to admit that he annoyed me!
So I checked nearby, and that little sucker just didn’t turn.
Said writer was back in the office the other day, and, with a satisfied grin, revealed the hiding spot–which was right under my nose. On a mostly vacated desk next to mine was the usual gathering of items–including a white coffee mug on the top shelf.
Yep. You guessed it. The stress ball was in the coffee mug. I’d been by the desk a few times, had even checked within inches of where that darn thing was. So close. So close.
Well, as I said, I got got.
#%$!!!
I gotta give the kid some credit … and think of my next prank.
Stay tuned.
Post edited by: rcolchamiro, at: 2007/12/13 05:46
