Chistmag Sfufe

So there’s this box in my office. Well, it’s not so much a box as one of those big Rubbermaid tubs. It’s been living up on a high shelf since long before I started working here. Neither of my office mates had any idea what was in it or whose it was. It’s obviously not mine, so that means it belongs to someone who no longer works here. Space is at a premium in our tiny little trailer. (There are only two desks for three people. I know.  That math doesn’t work, and yet! it is the way of things.) So one afternoon, I decided to see what was in this tub. When I pulled it down, I noticed something written on the opposite side of the tub, the side that had been facing away from me all this time.

Chistmag Sfufe. I think.

Now, I assumed that the person to whom the tub belonged was simply a bad speller, or had terrible handwriting, and I could expect to find various useless holiday doodads in this tub. I was wrong. I opened the box and proceeded to pull out the following:

  • A barcode scanner (still in the original box) that reads barcodes for a system we haven’t used in a year and a half
  • Receipts from purchases made on behalf of the company, dating back to October of 2007
  • A 2009 City Chamber of Commerce member directory
  • A business card index with those pages that hold eight or ten cards on a page, empty
  • Several sets of fancy, company-branded coasters
  • Miscellaneous pens, pencils and highlighters
  • Three wooden spoons in varying sizes

That’s right. Three wooden spoons. No, I don’t know either. And I’m not sure I want to find out.

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