This is a stereotypical overburdened, understaffed, fast paced public office. Because of the intensity of the operation the staff is constantly busy. Ensuring that daily deadlines are met, exact information is recorded, and follow-up is completed, is imperative. Each day begins and ends in high speed; there are times when employees are literally running to and fro with life altering documents. It is crucial that all entries, documents, mailings, and calculations are exact and expeditiously processed. Despite the constant pressure of the office the atmosphere is friendly and supportive; even happy. Jokes are told, one-liners and humorous quotes are heard amidst laughter and sharing of personal exchanges. The office has become a family of people supporting one another through personal situations, work responsibilities, and character differences. We even play harmless practical jokes on one another. I am the ‘go to’ person of the office for problem-solving, support, and above all else, practical jokes.
One particularly memorable practical joke took place when I bought a doorbell during lunch for my new home I had recently purchased. Upon my return I had time to stop in the employee lounge, I showed the purchase to coworkers and we enjoyed a few moments of listening to the buzzer, tones, and chime doorbell sounds. After I returned the doorbell to the bag another co-worker, Beverly, who is known for being very hyperactive, over reactive, harried, and always complaining; came into the lounge lamenting about the management required semi-annual Time Management Assessment (TMA) where employees must document each minute of their work day. She was a middle aged, stressed out, full figured woman who wore a bouffant-styled wig and lots of 1960’s make-up. An idea hit me as Beverly hurried out of the lounge complaining as usual. The idea was to use the new doorbell to play a practical joke that the entire office could enjoy. I told a coworker, Pria, about the idea and told her to get Beverly out of her cubicle for 15 minutes so I could set everything up. I went to the director’s office, told him the plan and he agreed to play along for a short period.
As Beverly returned from Pria’s phony need for her she stopped at my cubicle to complain that she didn’t know how to record the time she had just spent with Pria. “What do they want me to put on the doggone TMA form for helping someone?” she said amongst other complaints. As she left my cubicle she thanked me for letting her vent and emphatically said, “It wouldn’t surprise me if they were monitoring us to see if the information on the TMA is true because they don’t want to pay us what we’re really worth for all of the work that we get done in this place! I really wish I could quit this job, but I need the money since my no good ex left me in a world of debt. When will it ever end, huh, when will it ever end?”. As she approached her cubicle I signaled my coworkers to watch. When she walked through the opening I hit the doorbell button triggering a buzzer sound. Beverly’s head spun around searching for the source of the buzzer sound. She said, “Did anyone hear a buzzer sound?’ Everyone responded negatively while containing their laughter. She muttered that she thought she heard something, but she assumed she didn’t since no one else heard it, so she began working. Minutes later she got up to leave her cubicle and again I put our coworkers on alert to watch. As she exited I hit the button to trigger the chime sound. Beverly stopped in her tracks saying, “Now I know someone heard that. What’s going on?”, no one responded. Beverly went to a few of the adjoining cubicles asking if anyone heard chimes. They said they hadn’t heard anything and burst into laughter when she speedily walked away with continued muttering and complaining. She was gone for a little while, so we were able compose ourselves before she returned.
When she returned she walked through the cubicle entrance and I hit the button for the buzzer sound again. Beverly said, “I know that was a buzzer noise when I walked into my cubicle.” She came from her cubicle to see if she would hear something and I hit the button for the chimes. She asked Mary in the cubicle next to her to listen, she walked through the opening and again I hit the button for the buzzer sound, but I called Mary so that she was unavailable to confirm Beverly’s suspicions. Beverly waited for a few minutes for Mary to get off of the phone, but needed to see her department supervisor immediately, so she gathered some documents and walked through the cubicle opening. I pressed the button and the chimes sounded. She stomped her feet and grumbled audibly that this treatment was not fair. Her anger was beginning to build. She went back inside her cubicle again, not sure of what to do. She called her supervisor and asked if they could meet in her cubicle, she wanted to see if the same thing would happen to someone else.
I called Laura, her supervisor, to tell her what was going on. I signaled the office to watch again. Beverly was in her cubicle thinking about the suspected monitoring. She walked out, the buzzer sounded, and she noted that the buzzer sounded only when she goes out. As soon as she went back in I pressed the button and the chimes rang . Beverly knew something was going on. She began looking around her cubicle for a device, but couldn’t find anything. As she looked, she stepped outside of the cubicle and I pressed the button, the buzzer sounded, so she went back inside the cubicle entrance quickly fearful that the sounds might mean trouble for her. She started talking to no one in particular complaining of her belief that she was being monitored. Pria came to her cubicle as she continued to complain while adding data to her TMA. She told Pria not to walk in to her cubicle because there is some kind of monitoring going on and she didn’t want any trouble. As she was talking with angrily animated gestures, she got the attention of other employees and mistakenly walked through the entrance. I pressed the button and the sound of the buzzer rang. Beverly quickly returned to the inside of her cubicle, I pressed the button and the chime sounded. Beverly’s gestures increased, her arms were flailing and she paced inside her cubicle afraid to go through the entrance. She said she was trapped in her cubicle because she didn’t know if she should not leave her work area since she was obviously being monitored. The coworkers were unable to contain themselves, they laughed openly as some told her they couldn’t believe she was being monitored, a few had to leave the room as tears streamed down their faces from laughing so hard. I laughed uncontrollably from a distance.
Just as Beverly slammed papers on her desk in frustration and threatened to march into the director’s office to demand that this monitoring be stopped, we heard the bell of the private elevator. Beverly coincidentally was walking out of her cubicle and thought the bell was another monitoring sound, so again I pushed the button and the sound of the buzzer could be heard. Beverly said, “Now there are two monitors, but they are only watching me, there are no buzzers and chimes on anyone else. It’s not fair, they can’t just monitor one person, and they sure can’t do it without permission! I am going to talk to the union representative before I go upstairs, this is too much!”
As Beverly rounded the corner to come to see me, since I was the union representative, she saw the director of the office coming from the area of the private elevator and realized that when she thought there were two monitors it was actually the bell of the private elevator near her cubicle. She pivoted when she saw him and descended upon him with the animated gestures that the office had been entertained with. She appeared to be a cartoon with arms going in many directions, hair moving back on her head, lipstick and eyeliner slightly smeared. She stopped right in front of him as he maintained his no nonsense serious face, free of humor as usual.
Several coworkers from the other floors were peeking around furniture and file cabinets, at door frames, and even squatting behind cubicle half walls. Beverly began to let him have it with both barrels. She said, “I want to know if I am being monitored. I hear one sound every time I walk out of my cubicle, and another sound when I walk in. No one else has these sounds when they go in and out of their cubicle and I want to know why am I hearing them? I do my job and you don’t get any complaints about my work. I help others and I am filling out that doggone TMA like you have asked. I hope no one is trying to fire me because I will go straight to the union and I mean it. I want to know what the heck is going on.” The director couldn’t hold a straight face any longer, he began to laugh. Beverly knew everyone thought she was hyperactive, so she thought the laughter was because she was overreacting. Beverly was sweating, her usually flawless intact 1960’s make-up was smeared, her wig was not straight, her face was shiny from beads of perspiration, she was upset. The director told her that she was not being monitored and that perhaps I, as union representative, could help her.
At first I was laughing so hard that I could not talk, I just kept walking toward her while pressing the doorbell alternating between the chimes and buzzer. Even though she saw me pressing the buttons and heard the coordinating sounds, Beverly didn’t realize that I was making the sounds happen. She was just fussing at our coworkers and asking them how they would like it if it was them being monitored. As she looked at them, they laughed and she became more agitated. She marched back her cubicle and as she entered I couldn’t stop myself, I hit the button again and she heard the chimes. She slammed papers, drawers, and anything else in her cubicle as she said to me, “See, there goes the monitor when I came in my cubicle. It’s not fair, it’s just not fair!” She told me, “Stop laughing, this is not funny. I want to know what’s going on!
When I felt that she was at her wit’s end I finally composed myself and walked into her cubicle. Before I could confess that it was a practical joke she said “I knew they were monitoring me, there was no buzzer when you came, only when I come and go.” I straightened my face and let her finish. Then I told her I was the one causing the buzzer and chime sounds as a joke and everyone knew what was going on, that’s why they were laughing and not upset at the idea; even the director. All of the hidden coworkers that were able to stand up and walk came over to Beverly in tears. I showed her the doorbell and she finally realized that it was a joke and she was not being monitored. In order to commend her for being good natured, and to apologize, I donated a day from my vacation bank to Beverly and promised not to make her the object of any future practical jokes.