Yesterday, shortly after I got to work, I visited the men’s room, the primary purpose of which I (correctly) estimated would take a few minutes. The secondary purpose was to continue reading the book which had been occupying my attention on the commute that morning, at least until I got to a chapter end or similarly suitable stopping point. (Reading at my desk would look like goofing off, whereas the men’s room affords a modicum of privacy.)
At one point, after both of my dual goals had been met, I set the book aside to have free use of my hands. And somehow I neglected to pick the book back up again, probably because my head was already starting to fill up with work-related tasks for the day ahead and a vague plan for managing all of them. It wasn’t until the end of the day that I even thought about the book again, as I was gathering up my things to leave. I couldn’t help but notice that the book was not sitting on my desk or tucked into my workbag, which was distressing for several reasons but foremost among them was the fact that I had used my monthly VRE pass as the bookmark in the book. Those suckers are not cheap, and since it was only the 6th of the month there was a lot of value still remaining on the ticket.
I generally wait until the last possible minute before I have to leave to catch my train, so I dashed for the men’s room and checked to see if the book was right where I vaguely remembered leaving it. It wasn’t, and with no time to look around more extensively I just headed out of the building and toward the train station. Fortunately, I have learned over the course of the past year and a half to carry a spare multi-ride ticket in my workbag, in case I ever find myself without my monthly pass. Usually that happens in the mornings rather than the evenings (if I’ve left my pass back at the house in the pocket of a different jacket or something) but at least I was able to get home yesterday evening without jumping (metaphorical) turnstiles.
When I got to work this morning I was able to look around a little more methodically for my mislaid book, but it stubbornly failed to appear anywhere. So I had to swallow my pride and explain what had happened to the office manager (so much for the privacy of the privy) and ask what the lost-and-found procedure was. Apparently, there isn’t one. But the office manager guessed that if anyone had found the book lying around unattended, they might have turned it in to one of the security officers for the floor. So I had to swallow my pride again and confess my absent-mindedness to yet another person, though I at least could avail myself of a little face-saving by inquiring about the matter via e-mail. My e-mail was answered immediately … by an Out of Office notification, as the head security officer is on leave until next Wednesday. So I had to swallow my pride YET AGAIN and forward my original statement of mental ineptitude to a third person. That e-mail was also immediately answered, but this time with a very straightforward “I have your book.” Turns out this security officer had picked up my book himself, not wanting one of the cleaning crew to assume it was abandoned like an old newspaper and just throw it away or something.
So, the story ends happily, if mortifyingly, I suppose. I imagine I’ll be a bit more attentive to my reading materials in the future.
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