Help wanted

Downsizing in the workplace has left many companies shorthanded, and we are no exception. Some time ago, for instance, we lost our Designated Bug Killer, on whom we depended greatly to rid our office of detestable creatures, some of which are almost big enough to be seen with the naked eye. Although this employee left of her own free will -- after signing a statement saying that she would never reveal her bug-killing methods to any rival workplace -- the decision to not replace her has put a great strain on the rest of us. Not only do we struggle to maintain our own crushing workloads, we must now also determine who will destroy the assorted bugs in our building, of which there are many.

Wasps in particular seem to be extremely fond of our office. They come in droves, a drove being defined as: two. Recently one invaded my workspace. After a time of cruising around the cubicle and checking out the books on my shelf -- The Chicago Manual of Style; Words into Type; Useless Grammar Facts that Everyone Except Editors Has Long Ceased to Care About, If Anyone Ever Did -- the wasp finally settled on the American Heritage Dictionary (4th edition).

"Well, he seems to be a literary wasp," someone commented.

We stared at the wasp a while, waiting for it to become bored with "gruesome: causing horror and repugnance; frightful and shocking; see 'large wasps' " and fly off to another part of the office. But it refused to oblige us.

Another co-worked finally offered her services in the Case of the Literate Wasp, declaring that she had a vendetta against wasps since being stung the weekend before at a picnic. If there is a killing job to be done, it is always helpful to secure the services of someone with a vendetta, as the individual is highly motivated to get the job done, and will not merely stand around dithering about it, as the rest of us are wont to do.

As we were discussing the technical difficulties of trapping the wasp in the folds of the dictionary, the vendetta-filled co-worker, armed with only a Kleenex, snuck up on the wasp and neatly transported it from the American Heritage Dictionary (4th edition) to wherever it is wasps go when they are no longer alive. Although we were very grateful, it did seem a shame that such a literate wasp had to be punished for the transgressions of what sounded to be a simple outdoor picnic wasp, who probably had had no opportunity to attain any higher education or read books, much less the American Heritage Dictionary (4th edition), and was just doing what comes naturally to wasps.

Should the economy pick up, and we find ourselves hiring new employees, I propose that we interview them regarding their personal feelings about bugs: Do you have any personal vendettas against bugs? If so, what kind of bugs? Please explain the nature and origin of this vendetta. Would you be willing and able to use this vendetta for the good of the company, and of your fellow co-workers?

With a full-time Designated Bug Killer aboard, the rest of us could rest easily again and attend to our very busy work schedules, including what to order on our pizza.