Behold, the spoons

One of the things I never anticipated when coming to work in the realm of adults (or more familiarly: the valley of the damned, for my fellow office workers out there) is how significant a role the little things play in your quality of life at work. Yes, a teeny salary can be irksome (reference: me and everyone else here, every other Friday), and frustrating benefits can take a toll (reference: me, trying to get new glasses for less than the price of a used ‘89 Toyota). But beyond actually paying your bills and being able to get your arm sewed back on at a reasonable price, it’s the little insignificant details of a workplace that really make the most difference. To better understand this, please see the thermostat episode of The Office. (Unfortunately, this is also the episode with Dwight’s speech, so the best synopsis I can find of the thermostat bit is: “Meanwhile, back at the office, the employees fight over the thermostat.” Meh.)

Anyway, one of the infinite number of “thermostat” issues we have around here has to do with silverware. There’s never any silverware in the kitchen. Part the problem is we only have about 10 spoons, 5 forks, and, of course, 40 butter knives. The other part of the problem is, people stick things in the dishwasher and the thing is only run every 6 weeks or so. (Because it’s so hard to wash a spoon by hand.) In response, I’ve taken to hoarding. I know it’s wrong, but it’s a cruel world out there, and if I don’t hoard a fork or two, you know Eunice in Publicity is going to have enough forks in her desk drawer to dress a 12-place-setting formal dining table. Well, two-finger salute to that. Starting about two months ago (okay, six months ago) I started keeping a fork in my pencil jar. And a butter knife with my teacup. And then every time we had a company gathering I would grab all the plastic ware and put it in a baggie and hide it behind the expense reports in my bottom drawer. The system worked perfectly until one day last week I left a fork in the drying rack for an hour and when I came back it was gone. Not shocking. I should have known better. Really dropped the ball on that one, soldier.

But since then, everything’s been going fine. Still, you can imagine my surprise when I opened the kitchen drawer this morning and there were about 50 spoons, 60 forks, and 100 butter knives. It literally stopped me in my tracks and I just stood there and stared at it like I’d just found Aztec gold - its shiny reflection hitting my stunned face. All I can think of for a visual is that kid from The Indian in the Cupboard.

That is me. This morning. About an hour ago.

Pure ecstasy I tell you.

So this leads me to believe one of several things: someone got fired and when their desk was cleaned out they found all of Oneida’s output for 1994. Someone bought silverware. Someone returned silverware. Many people returned silverware all at the same time. Someone finally cleaned out the dishwasher. I like to believe it was the first one, and now I can spend the next half hour thinking of who the most likely suspect is.

Good morning, readers. Good morning.