At the time I didn't think it was stealing. I returned to my desk after a training session, and I noticed this really cool, felt-tip pen lying on my desk, near some notebooks. I usually use these totally lame PaperMate ball points that the company supplies, and I can't be bothered to buy my own. So when I saw this pen I was pretty happy. I had no idea how it got there, so I picked it up and tried it out. Exactly my kind of pen - black ink, fine width and it was a click top, no cap. I put it in my desk drawer for later use.
About five minutes after finding it, the new guy who sits beside me returned to his desk and started looking around, searching for something. When he told me he was looking for his pen, instead of saying "Oh I have it I found it on my desk", I said something stupid like "No way, you had it over here?" and proceeded to pretend to help him find it. I should have just got it and gave it to him, of course. But I think the idea that I would have to open my drawer and get it would indicate that I had "stolen" it. He seemed a little bummed out because it was a very good pen. His thought was that the Tech Support guy who was hooking up his PC had probably taken it earlier in the day. I went along with the story.
Then the new guy left for the day and I was stuck trying to figure out what the hell to do. He's a really nice guy, so I desperately tried to think of a way I could innocently return the pen to him, making it look like I had not in fact absconded it. This was my genius idea: I took the pen out of my drawer and nudged it behind one of my notebooks. Then, in the morning I would come into the office, find his pen and hand it to him. I would be a hero, a bonafide life-saver who did not steal a co-worker's pen. With that in mind, I packed up my stuff and went home for the night.
Following morning, I got into work at around 8 and got stuff ready for my morning training session. Before I went into the training room, I "found" the pen and, happily, went to teach the morning class. The new guy hadn't arrived for the class yet, so I simply placed his pen on his training desk. At about 8:30 he came in the room, noticed the pen and exclaimed "Hey you didn't have to buy me a new pen". I told him I didn't, and that I actually found it on my desk, behind some books. He answered "But this isn't my pen. My pen is a blah-biddy blah pen and this one is completely different". I had no idea what to say, so I made something up that maybe the Tech Support guy switched pens or some bullshit like that. I guess he bought it.
After the training session I returned to my desk and opened my drawer. Lo and behold, another pen was in the little pen-holding area. I must have taken out a different pen that I thought was his, thinking it was his pen. I took his pen out of the drawer and put it in my bag, to bring home so he could never accuse me of having taken it. So now I have this wicked pen at my house, which is retarded because I hardly ever write anything down at home.
January 9, 2005 07:09 PM PST
I've been there. We've all been there...
December 15, 2004 08:14 AM PST
Tim, you have the BEST problems. I swear it.
|Mr. Mister |
December 14, 2004 11:11 AM PST
Pens are the gateway to Fourth Level of Hell entry; it leads to tape recorders, leather jackets, Spanish Conquistador swords used as props in a play about Jesus, old ladies' photo albums, ugly non-missable children...
...exactly in that order. Beware; absconsion is a subtle, vile temptress.
Enjoy the pen.
December 14, 2004 12:25 AM PST
December 13, 2004 04:23 AM PST
love the word absconded! didn't think anyone ever used it anymore!
|Perfect Girl |
December 12, 2004 08:37 PM PST
I like your blog. The story of the pen, I did that once too.. I ended up with two and at work I kept letting the customers use it till one took it. They always take it. Just so I wouldn't look guilty!
December 12, 2004 04:59 PM PST
I love the pen story. First time I've read an entire entry straight through all day. At my job I usually put my name on my pens, but then again I'm anal about anybody touching my things.
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