War at Work

I seem to be talking about work a lot lately. If we’re not reading dinosaur porn we’re going on treasure hunts or building a fort.

But it’s okay because my boss spends his time collecting and playing with ducks.

You’ll need to read that duck post for background info on The War.

The War started over Spanish doughnuts.

Before the Dinosaur Porn crowd, Dave, Ivor and I had different neighbours in our office. One of them was Lucas. He was Spanish (still is), had a talking Minion toy on his desk and kept so much food at work that his desk drawer was like a small but well-stocked branch of Asda/Walmart. When his wife put them both on a diet, he arranged meetings out of the office just so he could pop into KFC undetected.

Dave is particularly fond of a certain type of Spanish doughnut. I have no idea what’s so special about these doughnuts but they’re at least as gorgeous as Helen of Troy because they started a war.

When Lucas went to Spain on holiday, Dave demanded doughnuts. To make sure the demand was met, we kidnapped the minion. We took a picture of him with a gag on, in a dark drawer, and emailed it to Lucas on his holiday. Unfortunately I didn’t keep the picture but it was a bit like this:

Lucas returned with doughnuts. We congratulated ourselves on our ingenuity.

Then we came into work to find this ransom note.

That’s right. He’d stolen Ivor’s ducks. Look at them there, all cold and scared in the dark. 😦

This was war.

At work, reception open the post and distribute it to the appropriate person. This saves us having to trawl through junk mail.

It also means it’s easy to disguise a pretend letter as a real one, by getting reception to stamp and deliver it. Lucas returned from holiday to find this letter on his desk. I used a real solicitor’s logo and I don’t want them to sue me so I’ve redacted that along with our address and Lucas’ full name…

We came into work the next day to find the ducks returned, back in their places on Ivor’s desk.

Unfortunately we were missing the wheels on our desk chairs, the M-N-I-O-S keys on our keyboards, and the handles on our drawers.

By this time IT and office management were a little upset at the damage to property, so we quietly repaired our workstations.

We’ve been biding our time for a year. What revenge should we exact, now we’ve lulled Lucas into a false state of security?