OK, you are on a call with a potential client, whom you are desperately trying to get on board. He is about to give you a time and a place to meet, his personal cell number, and other important information. The adrenaline starts to pump as you envisage yourself at the meeting with the client as he scribbles his signature onto the awaiting dotted line. You then look for a pen, and low and behold, there are none on your desk, even though you swore you put one there 2 minutes ago.
Not to worry, you put the client on hold for a moment and go to Ken, the womanizing, niftily dressed, closet alcoholic in the next cubicle to fetch one. However, Ken is on a call and there is no sign of a pen anywhere. You feel a slight rush of anger but subdue it instantly, and briskly walk to the next cubicle…
Marie resides here. Marie is unbearably happy on this rainy Monday morning and probably suffers from some sort of a personality disorder, most likely borderline, and inquires into the adventures of your weekend. You smile through your teeth and make a little chit chat while you scan her desk for a pen. While you are scanning her desk she says something else, and judging by the slightly raised pitch at the end, it sounds like a question. Even though you weren’t listening you make an attempt of an answer which consists of a feigned laugh and a dragged out “yeah.” You then say “good bye” and leave because there is no pen in sight. For some reasons she looks confused.
Your blood begins to boil as you curse yourself for losing your only pen. But it’s OK, because surely the boss who sits three cubicles up will have a pen…precious minutes pass…You leave your bosses cubicle pen-less, wishing a brutal-extremely-painful-death involving a few tons of semtex upon him, and the so-called Fortune 500 company you work for.
Rather than looking around the whole office you decide to go directly to the supply room hoping to find that ever allusive assh*le of a pen. When you get there you are on the verge of violent frenzy because there are 10 boxes of pens…all empty. A slight glimmer of hope presents itself in the form of a crushed pen underneath the door. It is leaking ink and looks like it has been battered to death by a hoard of jealous murderous Bics. None the less, you pick it up with the greatest of care; as if it were a cute baby lamb, and bolt back to your desk.
Luckily, the potential client is still holding. He tells you the info you need, and you write it down, but you can’t find a Post-It-Note. You decide to write the info on your hand instead but the injured pen doesn’t work. You make up an excuse and politely tell the client you will call him back later. You hang up the phone, pick up your computer screen, throw it through the window, and then go for your morning coffee break.
Does anyone have this problem with pens and the lack thereof, or does it just occur in our office?
This is a guest post by Chris O’ Hara.
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