Coworkers Bearing Gifts
Yesterday morning, after I'd been at work about an hour and a half, I glanced up and suddenly noticed this affixed to my cube wall:
This could only be the work of one person.
It seemed logical to assume that the cheerful music aficionado represents him, and the angry pig represents the woman who sits in the cube across from him; but he said that wasn't what he'd had in mind - although he acknowledged it would be a reasonable interpretation of his artwork. (That poor woman. I think she's pretty cool, as I've always had a soft spot in my head for curmudgeons; but her principal hobbies are smoking cigarettes and making grouchy remarks, so she's becoming the basis of a workplace legend in her own right. Hers probably won't involve melting panties, although every workplace legend really should.)
We have a wonderful source for items like this picture frame (my coworker provided the actual picture): our copy room at work is an informal trading post, where you can dump off your hideously tacky knick-knacks that no one could ever possibly want, and pick up something kitschy, original, and wonderful that you can't believe the original owner wanted to get rid of. For instance, I'm now the proud owner of a magnificent napkin holder made entirely of differently colored pastel seashells. It looks kind of like a Venus flytrap, and is just about the right size to devour a Barbie, or better yet a Stretch Armstrong; but I don't have one.
Surreal decoration is important in the workplace, especially if you spend all day poring over roadway construction engineering plans, which are just a wee scoche on the dry side. I'm so happy I have kindly coworkers who recognize this and do something thoughtful to weirden my day.
Maybe someone will bring me a Stretch Armstrong next.