I like jokes. Like this one:
But I also enjoy jokes of the more practical variety. You know, the "pranks," as the young folks say, on their Tweets and internets and whatnot. So I tried to bring this joy and whimsy to my office, which is not really known for its commitment to whimsy. Frolicking, absolutely - but not as much with the whimsy.
A coworker with a notoriously messy desk was out of the country for a month. She has been cajoled, harassed, poked and prodded to clean and organize her workspace for years, but there has been no change. So I said, "Hey, wouldn't it be a hoot if we took everything off her desk, and hid it? So when she comes back, it will look like her desk is clean! Whaddayasay, guys and gals?" And everyone in the clubhouse shouted "Hooray!" and carried me off for ice cream sundaes - in the sense that my boss and his boss both agreed this would be a fine idea.
The stage is set for a quality office prank, one that would not harm anyone, or result in the death of any minority or small fuzzy animals. And it would be funny, and we could laugh, and reminisce in our old age about how we put one over on old X.
And then my boss' boss, as is I suppose her duty, proceeded to suck the very life and humor out of the plan.
First, she ran it by HR. HR thought it was a terrible idea (surprise! God, I hate Toby).
Second, she called X. And told her what we were going to do. By then, however, it had changed into some sort of favor we were doing.
Third, she scheduled time on her calendar, as well as on mine and my boss'.
Why did she need to schedule time? Because Fourth, she decided that we were going to reorganize X's office for her, as a kindness.
I don't need to tell you what kindness does to funny. That's right, it beats it like a small child, then spits on it as it walks out the door. "Take that, funny. No one loves you." Kindness is SUCH a douche.
My joke on X became a joke on me, and my need to bring humor into inappropriate settings. Like, say, a meeting with my boss and his anal compulsive neat freak boss. I felt like an 8-year-old who's halfway done before he realizes that this is SO not worth the $1.50 his mother bet him that he couldn't clean his room in less than an hour. Only because I was in my office, I couldn't wet myself and light my bunk bed on fire.
Well, not at the office, at least.