Got Me Good.

This has been a fairly disruptive week at work. Last week we were notified that we were getting new carpeting, a welcome improvement. The task would be accomplished over five weeks, with the installation taking place every night into the early morning. Each day a section would be handled by “carpet elves”, and we’d arrive to find a new pattern spreading ever outward from the elevators at the center of our floor. In order to facilitate this process, workers were given boxes in which to place the entire contents of their cubicles. Every shelf and every drawer had to be packed, so workers could easily move them out of the way, jack up the desks and cubicle walls, and replace the carpet underneath. There was a plan of attack, and employees would know at least 48 hours in advance before their area needed to be packed up. Fortunately, our area was to be done relatively early in the process, and I was happy that we’d get it out of the way. I took the time to bring home personal items such as CDs and action figures, and along the way I got rid of a lot of old things I didn’t need anymore. It was a great opportunity to clean a perpetually cluttered workspace. My schedule and lack of organizational skills don’t allow me much time to clean up, but now I was forced to make time, even if it meant being more efficient with my core workload during the day to free up some time after work for packing. I finished most of my task on Tuesday night, leaving out only the things on my desk I’d presently need. Last night, when the rugs were due to come in, I finished packing the last of my things. Ten boxes sat in an empty cubicle when I left, and I wondered if I’d find a new carpet this morning, or if my luck would kick in.

Those who know of my ability to twist probability will be no more surprised than I was when I walked across new carpeting that stopped just shy of the quadrant of cubicles where I sat. My neighbors didn’t seem too happy about it, and one of my friends pointed out that notes had been left on our desks apologizing and explaining. I picked up a sheet of paper from my pristine desk, and read the following:

Due to the large amount
of boxes in this area, we
were unable to capret your
area. Please reduce the
box count to four boxes.

Thank you and sorry for the
inconvenience—

your carpet crew

Everyone had the same ridiculous note, complete with the “capret” misspelling. My mind raced as I wondered how I could possibly get rid of or consolidate half my things, when I’d already thrown quite a bit out. A woman walked by and commented that in her thirteen years with the company she didn’t have as much stuff as I’d accumulated in six, and that I really didn’t need it all. Some of the boxes were packed solid with books, and the weight of three would be too much for my car let alone six. I checked to see if my writer was in yet since her area was done. Perhaps at the end of the day when she left I could move some boxes there. My friend wasn’t happy either, and though he had brought a handcart today, he had no idea where to move his boxes either. All four of us had no less than 8 boxes. Worse, our neighbors’ area had been covered, and they exceeded the ludicrous limit of four boxes, though not by much. It was insane. I ranted. I complained. I apologized profusely that my luck had affected those around me. When I questioned this fact aloud, had I been more composed, I might have recognized the vital clue. My bad luck NEVER affects other people, save to provide amusement and interesting anecdotes. I just wasn’t thinking.

Another friend came by now, looking about in surprise. He had a genuine expression of concern when he saw the note, since he was already up to seven boxes himself and Friday night was his deadline. I walked over to my other friend’s cubicle, still ranting, and started counting his boxes to see if he in fact had more due to a bookcase we share between the cubicles. As I did so, he handed me another piece of paper. At first I thought it was the same note, since the handwriting was very similar. I read it, and it said something to the effect of, “We apologize but we ran out of time. Your area will be taken care of tonight, 11/17. Sorry for the inconvenience, Your carpet crew.” Amazingly, I STILL wasn’t getting it. “Why did you get two notes?” I asked my friend who was now grinning. The other notorious prankster, who had moments ago feigned concern for his seven boxes, now released a laugh he’d been stifling with great effort. “There’s NOT a second note.” said the first friend, even as I fell to the floor in embarrassed realization covering my face in my hands. They were both in on it, and had provided a plausible alternate note underscoring the daunting task of getting everything into four boxes while distracting me with a typo they knew I’d focus on and include in my rant. The two girls who share our quadrant were in on it. The woman who’d been with the company thirteen years was in on it. One of our neighbors questioned my gullibility, and explained to her how my luck had preconditioned me to expect to find the old carpet this morning. I was sure they wouldn’t get to us, but the box limit really threw me into a state of crisis. They’d gotten me, and gotten me good.