Wednesday, June 28, 2006

“Just as a picture is drawn by an artist, surroundings are created by the activities of the mind.”

A few weeks ago I wrote about someone here at the office having a crush.

And how it was a little wierd.

Just now,
The mail cart comes along, and they drop off an envelope not addressed to me.

Not that big a deal-
Sometimes happens, and I just look up the person in the directory, phone them, find out where they sit, and walk it over.


So I look up this persons name, call them, and leave a VM saying something to the effect of, "Hi. Someone delivered a piece of mail for you by mistake. My extention is 4448, give me a call to tell me where you sit and I'll bring it over."

A couple of minutes later, the phone rings, I answer it with my normal, 'Hi this is' blah blah blah and am hung up on.


A few seconds later phone rings again, Give my normal, hi this is me, and there's a strange pause.
Then the guy identifies himself as the person I left the VM for, says he's not in the office today, and asks if he can just pick it up from me tomorrow.

I say sure, or if he'll just tell me where he sits, I'll drop it off on his desk for him.

Another strange pause.

Then he gives me directions, but asks me to wait 15 minutes before I take it over.


I hang up, don't wait 15 mintues, follow the directions and find myself in a row of cubes just off the main stairwell for the building.

Look around...
find his name on a posted sign on a cube....
Drop the envelope...
start to leave...

Then notice a desk calendar with little stick figures on each day-
and the stick figure for yesterday had drawn on and colored clothes like what I wore yesterday-
and so on
and so on

Right as I'm turning around someone runs into the cube full speed, stops, and says, "oh fuck" and walks away.

Don't know if that was the artist in question, or a friend who didn't make it in time to hide the calendar.

Am now debating going up and introducing myself in hopes he doesn't feel wierd,
leaving a different shade of red colored pencil for him that better matches my hair.


Blogger said...

The only thing worse than being crushed on is not being crushed on.

Anonymous Anonymous said...

you whore!


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