I put in three months notice at my last job (I had a very good relationship with my boss), so I had many weeks to fantasize about what my future held for me. But more than setting unrealistic weight loss goals and managing panic attacks about my financial stability, what most of my final days at work were consumed by were plans for My Great Leaving Work Prank.
Over the years, I had at times utilized the office amenities for not-work-related-stuff and somehow had acquired a grainy, black and white, scale size copy of my passport photo on my workstation. In the photo, my black, deep eyes stared through the lens, my mouth was closed tersely, and my double chin and unshaved 10 o’clock shadow were…also there. It was nondescript and boring but at the same time, kind of interesting…almost jarring if it were to sneak up on you. And that’s when I realized what my Prank would be: printing and placing tons of little, 1-inch by 1-inch copies of my passport photo all over the office. My grand exit would be for me to never truly, completely leave.
I held off until the last couple days to accomplish my plan. I had a key to our building and office suite, so I showed up an hour early, guaranteeing I would have a little bit of alone time in the office before anyone else showed up. I had a sheet of 24 passport photos, thinking that was enough to stash throughout the place. I was wrong.
Some spots were simple, and the photos were likely to be discovered quickly, like the inside of a kitchen cabinet or the bottom of a fruit bowl. Others were more devilish in their placement. How often does one look under their own keyboard, or at the bottom of the shred bin inside the shredder? I put one at the bottom of one of my boss’s big canisters of teabags, and in a move of true creativity and patience, I was able to slide one in between the plies of a completely wound up and still sealed roll of toilet paper. I cackled like a Bond villain as I imagined someone taking care of business only to have my villainous visage flutter to the bathroom tile unannounced. 61 of me haunted the place when I stepped out of the door at the end of that Friday.
I went back a few times after I left to tie up loose ends (THAT’S how good of a relationship I had with my boss), and noticed that they had a running tally posted on the breakroom refrigerator of all of the pictures of me they had found. They had located 11, the most notable being one (but not both) of the pictures I had placed on the inside of the toilet tank. My old boss postulated that were a total of 16 floating around. I nodded blankly, resembling the emotionless droid from the passport photo itself. I wouldn’t tip my hand. I wouldn’t dare let on that they’ll never forget this face.
