The Claw Machine is embarrassed to revisit a post that (even before revisions) crossed boundaries of good taste. But we feel that the additions/revisions to the passive aggressive bathroom note above is illustrative of an adolescent sense of humor pervasive at The Corporation. It the same culture of disrespect and frivolity that enables if not encourages employees to drink heavily during office hours, tape coworkers' office supplies together, and doodle on cubicle walls. This is a publicly traded company. There is an economic storm brewing. Seriously, people.
I just wanted provide additional proof to those who continue to doubt the existence of an ongoing, unexplainable conspiracy at my place of employment. The images collected here do not lie. Someone at The Corporation is wrapping office supplies at my desk in tape, both Scotch and duct. This is only happening to me -- I've asked my coworkers. I have a hard time finding the humor in this, if it's a supposed to be joke. What does it mean? Who is doing this to me? Why?
Downtown in another empty, dirty river city. The vacant high rises all along the river have become home to migrating birds: bald eagles, prairie falcons, wild canaries, tufted titmouses, red shouldered hawks. As their natural habitat disappears, the birds are driven to nest along the ledges and rooftops, some staying here year round. In winter, when the streets are empty and the air is clear, the wind can carry the birds' shrieks down to the street, echoing off the artificial canyon walls. In this urban context, you might think it's a car alarm, or the squeal of truck brakes. But it's the birds, mostly unseen on the roofs above you.
I was editing this video at my desk at The Corporation. Admittedly, I should have been filing reports. I look up. Hovering over my cubicle wall was Krump's long, weathered face.
"What the hell is that?" Krump asked.
Um, birds? I told him about Davenport, the birds, etc.
Krump smiled at my naivete. "Those aren't birds. Those are rhesus monkeys."
Sorry?
Krump slid into the chair in front of my desk. "Play it again." I did. "That sound is the rhesus monkey mating call. I'll never forget it." Krump parroted the sound perfectly. Krump used to be The Corporation's liaison in Southeast Asia. For 20 years, he lived in Nepal. Today, he's our division's go-to guy about manufacturing, tariffs, and labor law all over the world.
"In Kathmandu, see, rhesus monkeys are sacred -- they build temples for them over there. They've overrun the whole goddam country. A total nuisance. If you're eating outside, they'll snatch the food right out of you hands. I've seen it. Leave something shiny on the seat of your car? They'll take a rock, break the window, and steal it. I came home once and there were six of them, all adult males, going through my fridge. They saw me and just went nuts. I fought them with my bare hands for nearly an hour -- ended up stabbing one. Killed it. You try dumping the corpse of a monkey in a city where they're sacred. I damn near got myself deported." Krump's stories are always kind of outrageous, but I don't know why he would lie to someone in my position. His eyes were shiny with nostalgia.
Krump tapped the side of my monitor. "See, all over America there are feral colonies of monkeys. They escape from zoos, or from nutjobs who want to keep them as pets. Think they're cute. Most of them are from research labs. Now, labs like the rhesus monkey because their blood is so similar to ours. The first astronauts were rhesus monkeys, did you know that? So what you have there are rhesus monkeys, a colony of them. My guess is they've broken into one of those office buildings and are holing up in the ductwork."
So there you go, monkeys or birds, you be the judge.
Oh, it's all clear now. No misunderstandings. The agents taping the items around my desk are clearly seeking to frustrate or annoy. The item above was found after lunch, at my desk at the Corporation, a week after the first intrusion. Please see related post.
After lunch, I came back to my desk at The Corporation to find my phone double-wrapped in duct tape. Was this a prank? Or a misunderstanding of an order, made by agents following me?
