Office Projects

I’ve been slowly dismantling the bathroom.  A long ago (and failed) high school project involved riding the Metro late at night with a battery powered screwdriver and just going nuts on the train cars.  But this required an empty car and plenty of time, so it just got old after a while.  Running from car to car, giggling, acting suspicious.  It was time better spent in front of the TV watching Magnum PI.

Unscrewing all the screws in the bathroom is a far more leisurely activity.  In your own time, you can loosen every screw in the stall.  I’m working a “compressed” schedule for the next few weeks, which means I get a day off every two weeks and make up the hours by coming in early the rest of the time.  So I’ll have plenty of lonely morning time to step up my bathroom project.  Maybe remove all the mirrors or something.  I tend to leave IOU’s when I do something like that.  A few years ago, I took all the fire extinguishers on my floor and hid them in the long disused filing cabinets next to an abandoned office.  I left an IOU with a little smiley face in each of the empty holders.  Of course I didn’t sign my name, but I did come out to watch the building services people try to puzzle it out.  It took them nine months to notice that the extinguishers were missing in the first place.  Then a pack of them, all wearing their little uniform overalls, ran from holder to holder collecting the IOU’s.  In the lobby, they scratched their heads, stared at my little printouts, scratched their heads some more, then collectively shrugged and returned to their dungeon.  The next day, the extinguishers were replaced.  That evening, after everyone had left, I took all of the ones I’d hidden and put them back.

I wish I was around for the two extinguishers at every station freak out.  I kept my eye open, months passed, and nobody seemed to notice.  Then, one morning, the extra extinguishers were gone.  Did building services take them away?  Is someone else copying me?

I’ve been using my Swiss Army knife for the bathroom, though some of the screws have been giving me a hard time.  These days, though, I like the challenge.  If I work at the screws every day then, slowly, they’ll all bend to my will.  I don’t know how far I’m going to take it… Can I strip the bathroom of everything except the toilets and sinks?  Or maybe I should just remove the doors to the stalls and leave a long winded note about how it’s been done by the CEO “for your protection.”

Passive shenanigans seem to work just fine for me.  My aggression is focused on the security door.  A few years ago, our security doors were upgraded.  Of course, the fancier the security, the more temperamental it is.  I found that swinging the heavy glass doors out as far as they’ll go, then slamming them shut is a great way to break the little sensors that lock them.  Whenever the doors break, it takes months for building services to repair them.

It takes weeks of abuse to break the locks, though.  I’ve fallen into a routine where I kick the doors open, then swing them closed.  Each time I come back, I yank viciously on them instead of using my key fob.  Eventually, they just give way and never lock again.

My co-workers rarely notice this.  Even with the doors sitting ajar and clearly not connecting with the lock mechanism, they blindly use their key fob to enter.  Eventually, our director does take notice and sends around a long email apologizing for the breach in security and promising repairs.

I like to watch my co-workers when the doors are broken.  I’ll sit at the sickly little computer intended for visitors and stare wondrously at these prisoners of conformity and habit.  Their dull, glazed eyes as they uselessly go through the entrance ritual.  I once asked a few of them – why do that if the doors are broken?  They all replied:  Because it’s what I always do.

People make me sad.