Possumblog

Part Two of the Plan Proceeds.

Actually, more like Part 2.2. Part One being the delivery of my new cruddy old wheels, Part Two being getting them out of my office into the van so I could take them home at lunch today. (No, I do not intend to buy them lunch. They're on their own on that score.) However, I was stymied in my effort to proceed with Part Two due to a decided lack of a way to get the box out to the parking deck.

Obviously, being wheels, they should roll just fine, but I thought it might look a little too weird to try to roll four wheels onto the elevator, down the corridor, up the ramp and load them. I needed something to put the box on, such as, oh, the department's set of hand trucks.

AND THUS BEGINS THE QUEST FOR THE HOLY HAND TRUCKS.

First stop, downstairs in the other part of the division. Looked in the plan room, in the back of the plan room, asked the intern kid in the dungeon of the plan room, looked in the computer geek's warren, was told in NO uncertain terms that those things were on MY floor and had BEEN there for months. ::sigh::

On the way out, looked in their supply room (also looked for any cool supplies they might have upon which I could perform a little light-fingered requisition), then stopped in the inspector's hive and their conference room. Nothing.

Back upstairs.

Looked in the junk room, the small junk room, then in the nest of zoning people, and was told that The Guy Who Can't Do Tables in MSWord (and Who Talks To Me at the Urinal While I Pee) knew where they were.

::SIGH::

Gee, I wonder if I could maybe just carry them out one-by-one...

Went and asked The Guy where the hand trucks might be.

"OH! Those are downstairs. There in the map room. In the closet. Come on! I'll show you!"

Can't you just tell me?

"Guy, can't you just tell me?"

"Aww, no--come on, I'll show you right where they are!"

Back downstairs, this time with full-time blithering accompaniment.

Into the place I started, walked past the intern kid, Guy opens locked closet door, and THERE, bright shining in the bluish fluorescent glow...

our hand trucks.

Yay.

I leaned around the corner and told the intern kid where they were in case anyone else needed to know. He said, "Thanks, sir!" Kids.

I left The Guy standing there jabbering to himself and to anyone else he could buttonhole as I went back upstairs. Loaded the box, managed to get back out of my office without killing myself, onto the elevator, back downstairs, down the corridor, up the ramp, to the van, and SUCCESS!

And yes, I returned the hand trucks to their rightful home.

Posted by Terry Oglesby at November 2, 2005 10:32 AM