The Trials of the Laminated List Part II
When he came at me, Joe “The Spill” Wilson was empty-handed, which was a good thing. He was notorious for drenching everything including himself in his long-armed radius with coffee, soft drinks and once even a strawberry milkshake. All documents unfortunate enough to pass across his desk were doomed.
“Hey, is that the List, let me see it. I want to check my calendar, see what day I gotta clean up.” I handed him the List with a sigh of relief, as he was clearly beverage free.
“My calendar is in my office, it’ll just take a sec.” He stepped into his cubicle and set the List down next to a steaming Grande Mocha from Jumbo Java and simultaneously reached over the coffee to peer at his calendar pinned to the cubicle wall.
Before I could scream out loud, I saw it in slow-motion, like a dream, the way you see tragic accidents happening before your eyes. He bumped the coffee and the List and everything else on his desk was soaked in an engulfing ebony flood that waterfalled in a cascade of decaf droplets tapping onto the plastic desk chair mat.
“Oh man! Joe said. He grabbed a roll of paper towels, which he kept in ample supply due to his chronic clumsiness and began wiping up his mess, turning the unprotected papers on his desk—the project reports and sales projection estimates--into a mushy pulp.
But miraculously, the List with one swipe of the paper towel was wiped clean. I picked it up quickly before anything more could happen and remembered Jo-Beth’s words, as she patted the Fellowes Saturn 95: “a laminated document is a safe document.”
At that precise moment, I felt the List plucked from my hand over my shoulder. “Oh you got the List, exactly what I was looking for.” Eddie Chaz from PR started walking quickly away from me carelessly fanning himself with the List.
“Hey,” I ran after,” I’m supposed to post that in the break room.”
“Don’t sweat it,” he said over his shoulder, “I just want to make a copy for myself, no biggie.” He dragged the List playfully along the wall whistling as he took a sharp right into the copy room—where we also kept the shredders!
Laminated or not, the List could not possibly survive a shredding. As he disappeared out of sight, I turned the corner after him, hearing a loud grinding noise.
Suddenly Eddie cried out, “Oh No!”
See what happens in the next installment of Cube Confessions.