Daughter of Dilbert

They have rearranged all of the office supplies in the supply room at my workplace, and they are in the process of erecting a cage to go around them. A cage that will surround all the supply shelves so that someone will have to unlock it for you whenever you need a pencil or some post-its. Sigh. Then again, maybe it truly is necessary around here, where I've heard that the toilet plungers were stolen from all of the bathrooms - and I swear there are at least eleven bathrooms in this building. How exactly does one discretely take a toilet plunger home with them after work? "Bye Joe, have a good weekend, oh, never mind this toilet plunger here, it wouldn't fit in my briefcase." Weird. Did eleven separate people steal toilet plungers, or do we have some sort of plunger-obsessed office worker sneaking around after 5 o'clock liberating the building of plungers? Does his or her home have a room with a giant shrine constructed entirely of plungers, their wooden handles reaching skyward, rubber cups adhered to the floor?

More office humor - they have posted a sign on the fire door at the top of the stairs that reads, "Fire Door. Do Not Open in Case of Fire." Sorry, I just thought it was funny. It is Friday afternoon, after all.


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