sticky notes
On my way to work this morning it started snowing. I inhaled some snowflakes as they floated down toward me and my bike.It was really cold. The wind cut straight through my jeans and coat to freeze me.
I got to work and wrestled my bike up the narrow stairs to the second floor. I'm not allowed to take the elevator anymore because upper management decided that it didnt look good to be coming in with my biking stuff on.
I have to sneak in the back way. It's sort of funny. Just to show them how much of a rebel I am, I hit the START button on the copier on my way by it so that it copies nothing, spitting out a sheet of paper.
Then someone has to put that paper back in the paper house.
I believe they call this "Sticking it to the man".
I sat at my desk and zoned out for a couple of hours, mindlessly hacking on a program that someone eventually will have to erase when it becomes outdated.
To ease the monotony I started sticking yellow sticky notes to my face. Tom Vines looked at me funny, so I started sticking them to his face too.
My boss barged in.
He looked at us.
"What the hell is wrong with you two?" he demanded.
"What?" Tom and I said in unison.
He left us alone.
One of Tom's sticky notes fell off his face and drifted to the desk like the snowflakes outside.
"They don't stick to me. I'm oily." he declared.
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