I'm Bad At Sharing

There’s no time to discuss the outcome of yesteryesterevening’s experiment. I have breaking news of the receptionist kind.

Several weeks ago, the receptionist from the office across the hall (we will call them the Inferior Nerd Company) came in asking to borrow our little red dolly. Let me preface this story by stating that it is my favorite dolly. It’s just the right size for the big boxes of magazines and paper that I need to haul around. Without it, I’m forced to either schlep 50 lb boxes around the office by hand or use one of the other dollies that are just totally useless. The brown one doesn’t have a handle – it’s just a board on wheels. The blue one is so big that it aught to have an engine so I could drive it around which would be freaking awesome and I have just added to my list of To Dos. Anyway, the Inferior Nerd Companyy’s receptionist didn’t really ask to borrow it so much as waltzed past me and took it which she does all the time and makes me frown.

Last week one of her coworkers came in looking to borrow yet another dolly. I informed him that I couldn’t lend out any more of our equipment until the piece that was previously borrowed was returned. That’s fair, right? He hung his head and left. Later that day, I could see him through the glass doors in front of my desk pushing stuff around in the elevator vestibule with, what else, a little red dolly.

A few hours later, the IN Co. receptionist comes back in with My Precious, apologizing for its late return which I graciously accepted with a "Oh no - don't even worry about it. I'm just glad it hasn't been lost or something!"

Today, another of her coworkers, Mr. Man, walks in with the janitorial guy that creeps me out (first I thought he was one of those cute, non-English speaking types that waves and smiles in order to communicate but now he has lengthy cell phone conversations outside my office doors while staring at me. The bond is broken.)

Mr. Man: Our receptionist returned the wrong dolly to you. It belongs to building managements [gestures to creepy janitorial guy]. We need it back.

Dangerous K: No, she returned ours which went unreturned for almost a month.

So, we walked into the mailroom and I put my hand on the red dolly to signify "this one" at the same time that Mr. Man gestures to the useless, (currently) undriveable blue dolly that’s collecting dust in the corner because no one wants to borrow it. In doing so, he also clearly demonstratd that he doesn’t know what’s going on. Creepy Janitor says "no" to the blue one and "yes" to the red one which upon closer inspection I realize is much more beat up than the one I had lent out. Perhaps this wasn’t My Precious after all.

Regardless, after a month of back breaking box moving, I had A Precious back if not My Precious and frankly, I don’t feel that I deserve to be Preciousless any longer. I related this sentiment as I herded them out of my mailroom, saying, “It’s entirely possible that she returned the one belonging to building management. We might have the same model. But that means that your office still owes us a dolly". I stood righteously in the doorway to block their forcible removal of my red dolly

Then I stood in the doorway to the mailroom in my righteous receptionist glory to prevent the forcible removal of A Precious. And that is where I remained until they got the point that they weren't taking the GODDAMN RED DOLLY UNTIL I GOT MINE BACK.

Hrmph.

This, yes, technically means that I am currently engaged in a hostage situation.