MY CANDY URN, SHATTERED.
“It wasn’t me,” Glenn said. “It was fully intact when I left here on Friday.”
I was devastated. My beautiful cheap vase thing that Henry bought at Goodwill and then spray-painted black because I couldn’t find an actual funerary urn that was within my Halloween desk budget, PULVERIZED.
TO SMITHEREENS INTO FOUR LARGE PIECES!
And then I got angry and started bitching about the meat-fisted cleaning people while Glenn and Todd just sat there, amused and thankful that they have nothing of worth on their desks. Although, I could see Todd getting pretty riled up if one of his Qdoba napkins got torn in a vacuum brawl. (Assuming that the cleaning people ever vacuum around here!)
Whining about my broken urn consumed roughly the first 30 minutes of my morning, so I didn’t notice that there was an email waiting for me about this very alarming matter.
So now the perp has a name! Lawrence. It figures. He probably goes by Loose Limbs Larry.
But then something came over me: compassion? mercy? clemency?
One of those things. Because I suddenly felt very sorry for Larry and imagined him falling to his knees and punching himself in the head after The Cleaning Incident occurred. Kind of like every time Henry breaks something of mine, which is OFTEN.
I became extremely giddy after reading this email. I even read it out loud to Glenn and Todd, and then began forwarding it around to other concerned co-workers, because a damaged candy urn is a very big deal. I think the only person who felt a true sense of loss over it was A-ron, because he really enjoys jamming his hand into the urn for a delightful snack. But then even he started cracking up after reading the email.
“There could be 5,000 of those things around the department and hers would be the only one that breaks,” Glenn muttered. I think he was secretly happy to be off the chopping block though, now that the offender was known.
And then the “facilities coordinator” came down to my desk with a copy of the accident report for me to fill out.
“I swear to god, I don’t need reimbursed for this,” I laughed. I mean, YES IT WAS A TRAGEDY AND LAWRENCE SHOULD GET FIRED, but my conscience is pretty loaded so Larry, it’s your lucky day. You’ve been spared.
I still had to fill the stupid thing out, with my comments and $0 next to “value of broken/lost item.” I considered putting “PRICELESS” but this facilities broad was standing there watching me and I knew I would start laughing.
“I could take the letter back for you too and throw it out,” she said, holding out her hand for the APOLOGY LETTER that Lawrence Grant was required to fill out. I blurted out, “No! No, I’ll keep that.”
“Whatever you say,” she sighed. Her job must be so goddamn annoying.
Anyway, here’s the apology note:
Man, I was really disappointed to see that this was a form letter and not something more heartfelt. But there are two different usages of “sincere,” so…
I left the urn shards on Gayle’s desk. She’s going to glue it back together, but I told her not to do it too well because I want Lawrence to see it sitting on my desk, looking all Frankenstein’d, so he’ll be forced to come face to face with his clumsy actions every time he’s on our floor. At least he didn’t knock over my bottle of Bela Lugosi’s grave dirt.
God, this was the best Monday morning ever.
I wanted to talk about it in our meeting today because this is something that affects all of us as a group, but people were too busy talking about work stuff.
(FUN SIDE NOTE: the Law Firm uses the same cleaning company that Tina & Eleanore, Inc. employed and I was obsessed with one of them. I wonder if this is Lawrence?!)
(ANOTHER FUN SIDE NOTE: Todd just now, hours later, admitted that he’s had no idea what exactly broke. “Oh, THAT thing! Yeah, I had no idea what we were talking about.” Then he asked me if I’m going to leave an “Apology accepted” note in the bare space on my desk where the urn once sat, and I mentioned that I have indeed been considering starting some type of correspondence with Lawrence. “Oh, I think you definitely should,” Todd agreed emphatically. “This is the perfect breeding ground for a new friendship.” CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.)