One of the nice things about a new coworker is they can remind me of things I’d forgotten or that I just take for granted but should still appreciate. The other day a new coworker dropped by my cubicle to ask a work question but instead asked something much more important: “Why do you have a big ball of string?”
It’s the last remnant of when I worked in the mailroom. Packages, especially from overseas, sometimes came in wrapped up in string and I started saving it because you never know when you might need some string. I also had hopes it might one day rival the biggest ball of twine in Minnesota but I moved on to other jobs. Even though I still dropped in to check on the mailroom occasionally the number of packages, especially those tied with string, declined. I still kept the ball of string but I’ve had it so long I’d completely forgotten about it until the new coworker asked about it.
I couldn’t there, though. I had to share the one time I actually used the ball of string for something. Several years earlier another coworker, now long gone, dropped by my cubicle to ask a work question but instead asked something much more important: “Hey, do you think you have enough string to reach the ground floor?”
Do not underestimate the value of questions like this. The office is on the 7th floor so the distance to the ground is approximately seventy feet. I’d never measured the string but this would give us a good idea how much I had. At the time the office windows opened—they’ve since been sealed for safety reasons and to make temperature regulation easier. The coworker had a pink stuffed hippo and we decided to use it as a weight. Unfortunately I’d forgotten to tie the last piece of string to the rest and, as I was lowering it, the hippo and about a foot of string took a sudden tumble to the ground.
We took the elevator to the first floor and pulled the hippo out of the bushes.
Back on the seventh floor we decided to make another try but this time with a pencil—something we wouldn’t mind sacrificing. As it was descending past the sixth floor, which is a parking garage and also smoker’s lounge, a hand shot out and grabbed the pencil.
“Hello? Hello? Who’s up there? Who’s doing this?”
For someone taking a smoke break they sounded unusually edgy. I started pulling on the string but they wouldn’t let go. My coworker quickly grabbed a pair of scissors and we sacrificed a few feet of string.
It wasn’t necessary to share all of this, of course, but I feel it was important to give my new coworker a sense of what they could expect from me.
Here’s a detailed illustration of where all this occurred:
The highest of hijinks–I love it! Can’t believe that guy stole your pencil!
This has Office Space vibes written all over it! I love it!
Emily Slatin recently posted…A Reflection On Love, Loss, And What Remains
It’s a lucky thing we only used a pencil and not a stapler. But that reminds me I really should add more flair to my work uniform before I get questioned about my TPS reports.
As the infamous Tarzan-vending-machine incident reminds me there are, or at least were, some people in my office building with a sense of humor, so I don’t know why the guy in the parking garage was so angry about the dangling pencil. It also occurs to me that he had to lean pretty far out to grab it. He’s lucky he didn’t fall!
I love the completely banal things that make up some of the best stories. Many years ago, pre YouTube, a group of us conference called General Foods marketing department because we couldn’t agree on the name of the French waiter in the General Foods International Coffees ad. It was Jean-Luc. It took up a good 20 minutes of our day, but damn if it wasn’t one of the more fun memories of working there.
I myself have a small rubber band ball from the brief period where I was doing mail intake at my current job. It’s about golf ball sized.
That International Coffees ad takes me back, but, of course, as a Star Trek geek, every time I saw that commercial I pictured Patrick Stewart as the waiter. And I put together a rubber band ball when I was in the mailroom too! After a month or so it started disintegrating. Maybe I overstretched the rubber bands.
I wish I had a co-worker like you, Chris, because we need that kind of crazy.