For literally months, I kept forgetting to get sticky notes from the copy room whenever I went back there. To grab work off the printer. Check on a project being mounted for presentation. Shoot the breeze with whoever happened to be standing in there at the time.
Well, this morning, I finally remembered. It hit me like an epiphany of sorts: When you go get more ultra-fine Sharpies, you can get some Post-it Notes.
I wore my pleasure in remembering this like a perma-grin badge of honor. “Hooray for me, I remembered the little buggers.” I headed to the copy room, hoping no one would try and stop me. With pesky work-related questions. Or even a report of how their weekend went.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to hear about their weekend. And tell them about our trip to the dog park. And how Bailey splashed around in the puddle we were all hoping he’d avoid. And how Lulu got under the fence and ended up in the tall weeds and swampy water .“Oh my, there’s a dog in there,” the other owners howled. “Yep, she’s ours,” we replied as we attempted to lure her back out.
But not now. Right now, I’m focused on fulfilling my months-long mission. I must get more Post-it Notes. I kept chanting it as a reminder on my trek across the office. “Post-it Notes, Post-it Notes, Post-it Notes…”
By then, I was even envisioning them stashed away on my desk. Where I can always reach them. Little yellow-tinted canvases for my hand-scribed notes. It’s an office tradition that predates all modern-day workers. “Please see me when you get back ☺” “Let’s discuss.” And “What the h were you thinking?” Only joking. About the smiley face.
Upon my arrival in the copy room, I searched for the drawer labeled post it notes. I mentally edited it to say, “Post-it Notes”, with the hyphen and capitalization to honor the mighty 3M. See, I knew we needed another proofreader around here.
I opened the drawer and to my disgust…I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I’m going to say there were none left. I wish that were the case. Instead, there were plenty of them. Except it looked like a bag of Skittles had thrown up in there.
Purple, green, pink, more purple. All pastel colored. And not one traditional yellow.
So now, here I sit. With neon-green post-its, on the corner of my desk, blinding me. It’s probably not even safe to look at them without protective eye wear.
But the upside of it all, is I certainly won’t ever forget them. No matter how hard I try.
Unscripted 