Of jeans and aliens

At work, the powers that be took pity on their subjects a few months ago and decreed every Friday during the summer to be "jeans" day. This edict was greeted with much cheering and enthusiasm, although as the summer wound down and the last day for wearing jeans approached, our enthusiasm was much subdued. But then -- o, happy day! -- we received an e-mail saying jeans day was "such a success" over the summer that we now get to have jeans day all year on Fridays.

Although this was greeted with great rejoicing, there was also suspicion regarding the motivation behind this benevolent decree. "Ha!" the powers that be probably said amongst themselves. "Instead of giving them raises, we'll just tell them they can wear jeans every Friday!"

Well, we are happy anyway.

There was no explanation of what constituted the "success" of jeans day. Were employees happier on days they could wear jeans? More productive? Did they sing more (although this might not, depending on the particular employee, be considered successful)? Was it the only policy we have had 100% compliance on? We may never know.

Meanwhile in our building -- which we affectionately call the "North Suite" because it is too depressing to call it the "warehouse," which is what it is -- we are in a battle against large alien creatures attempting a hostile takeover. The silence that generally prevails in our workspace is periodically interrupted by thwacking sounds, indicating that an astute employee has thwarted a takeover attempt by a wasp, centipede, whatever. So far the battle remains rather low-key, but should the creatures ever attempt to make off with our coffee, THEN there will be war.

It appears that I am what is known as the "alpha contact." That is, most of the alien sightings have been made by me. But by nature I am a very generous person, so, not wishing to keep these revelations all to myself, I recently sent an e-mail to my co-workers about a particular creature spotted.

To: Editing; Graphics
Subject: Service opportunity

There is an immediate opportunity for a service-minded individual to deal with a large cricket in the ladies' bathroom. Please see Holly.

According to an e-mail from the first person who attempted to fill this service position, the cricket "disappeared into a hole in the wall." I imagine this is how conspiracy theories get started. "It disappeared into a hole in the wall; there's probably a whole city of them in there..."

Later we received an e-mail from another person who announced that she had taken care of the cricket in question, although she personally "wouldn't have called it large." She based this opinion on the crickets in her personal basement, which are reportedly so big you can hear them when they jump.

I personally wonder why this person is not the alpha contact for the aliens at work. Obviously she has much more experience with aliens than I do.

But as long as we can keep wearing our jeans on Fridays, not much else matters. Although there is the little matter of raises...