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or How the Office Carpet Got Set on Fire!
This is another one of those wonderful stories I have and is probably my all-time favorite. It's from when I had one of those mythical office jobs doing things I don't really care to remember much, and where I worked doesn't really matter anyway.
Bear in mind the parts of this tale I didn't directly witness were related to me by those involved. I am using the initials of the guilty to protect them. Sort of.
It's a slow work day in April of '06 and while I'm at my desk doing the part of this job that I'm not fond of doing but am paid enough not to mind (ah, those were the days). The cubicle space I was in was on the ground floor of the building and nearby was the emergency exit which lead to a side area where my coworkers would go smoke. Outside were three of them, J, M, and T, all having a smoke and coffee break. For the disposal of cigarettes there was a plastic 5-gallon bucket filled 1/3 of the way with sand and the other 2/3 with cigarette butts. It was set in the midst of dry straw.
J, M, and T were taking their break and chatting away. J tossed his still-glowing butt into the bucket and began to sip his coffee. The day is hot and the disposed butts are all dry, and they all begin to smolder. A moment later, a small flame licks about inside the bucket. M, a tall and slightly overweight middle-aged man points to the bucket and says "hey, fire" as if there is nothing to worry about. J looks down and says quite calmly "oh, crap" then proceeds to dump his coffee on it. He fails miserably to hit the target fire and it begins to grow. "Oh. Crap." he says again and goes inside to get some water.
And there are M and T, standing there like idiots, watching the whole thing happen. (this line will become important)
J has the steady nerve of a quail. He is very tall and lanky and so in panic mode his flailing might remind an onlooker of Woody the Cowboy from Toy Story. He's also not the clearest thinker when in said mode and so he gets a tiny cup of water from the breakroom scuttlebutt (technical term for the water dispenser) and runs back outside where the flames have grown to about waist high and flings this little cup of purified water at it.
It does nothing of course, so he responds with an "Oh, crap!" and races back inside for something bigger.
And there are M and T, standing there like idiots, watching the whole thing happen.
J runs to the supply room to get the rolling mop bucket and takes it into the bathroom to fill it up. It is at this point that I am busy answering a collect call from nature, so I am here to witness this part. He fills the bucket and decides he's going to CARRY it out to put out the flames. J is not a graceful man and so three steps into the tile hallway he slips and drops the mop bucket, spilling the entire contents in the hallway with a cry of "crap!"
I'm a little concerned as he races back into the restroom to refill the bucket, so I ask if everything is okay. "yeah." he replies hurriedly and so I shrug it off and head back to my desk. J must have remembered that the bucket had wheels on it and so he races by my cube pushing it on the floor. I lean back in my chair and watch him go out the door, catching a whiff of smoke as he passes through. I just have to check this out, so I walk through asking "do I smell a fire."
By the time I've got the sentence out, I've got my answer. The cig bucket is aflame and the fire has managed to melt through the side of the bucket and set alight the dry straw to burn. J lifts his bucket full of water and makes ready, frantically licking his lips and adjusting his range as he prepares to, by golly, put this fire out. He takes one practice throw, then two, then gives the water a pausive fling.
The water sloshes out and splashes impotently on the ground halfway between J and the fire a mere five feet away, to which J responds (say it with me now) "oh, crap!"
And there are M and T, standing there like idiots, watching the whole thing happen.
M is giggling at the whole situation and says "Hey, you know there is a garden hose right there!" and points to the hose. J shoots him an angry look and grabs the hose, squeezing the nozzle trigger. Nothing happens. There is no pressure to the hose. Juming into action and trying very hard not to laugh, I run to the spicket and turn the water on and J finally douses the straw and half-melted bucket with water. The flames die out and the bucket is a smoking wreck.
Back to work. J decides it is his duty to dispose of the bucket, and since the dumpster is on the other side of the building, he decides to walk through it instead of around, BRINGING THE BUCKET WITH HIM!
The phone rings, a call J has been awaiting all day, and so he sets the bucket down on the carpet just inside the door and we all go back to work and promptly forget.
Until about twenty minutes later a certain smell begins to pervade the room. M calls out "Hey, J, the bucket is on fire again." I peer around the corner as J stands straight up out of his cubicle, eyes wide, the phone still at his ear. Stare, stare, stare "lemme call you back" *click*. Sure enough, the bucket was glowing with flame again, and the already melted edges were warping once more. The carpet was also just then catching fire (where oh where are the smoke alarms?!). J runs to fill his mop bucket and I race over to the wall and grab the fire extinguisher. I begin to spray down the fire as joe races in with a full bucket and begins to pour water on.
And there are M and T, standing there like idiots, watching the whole thing happen.
So J and I have gotten the fire out, and the old cig bucket and the burnt carpet are soaked with water and fire foam when D, the big boss, comes through the door clipboard in hand. He does not see us because he is focused on the clipboard. "J, I need the statistics on..." he notices us "WHAT IN THE HELL DID YOU DO!" And so here are J and I bent over the stinking plastic lump that once was the ciggy bucket staring at D and D is staring back at us, clipboard in one hand and doorknob in the other, eyes wide and mouth agape.
And there are M and T, standing there like idiots, watching the whole thing happen.
And then M pipes up with an amused matter-of-fact "J set the carpet on fire."
...
It wasn't funny then, but I am occasionally requested to tell this one at gatherings of friends, even when there is no one new to hear it.
This is another one of those wonderful stories I have and is probably my all-time favorite. It's from when I had one of those mythical office jobs doing things I don't really care to remember much, and where I worked doesn't really matter anyway.
Bear in mind the parts of this tale I didn't directly witness were related to me by those involved. I am using the initials of the guilty to protect them. Sort of.
It's a slow work day in April of '06 and while I'm at my desk doing the part of this job that I'm not fond of doing but am paid enough not to mind (ah, those were the days). The cubicle space I was in was on the ground floor of the building and nearby was the emergency exit which lead to a side area where my coworkers would go smoke. Outside were three of them, J, M, and T, all having a smoke and coffee break. For the disposal of cigarettes there was a plastic 5-gallon bucket filled 1/3 of the way with sand and the other 2/3 with cigarette butts. It was set in the midst of dry straw.
J, M, and T were taking their break and chatting away. J tossed his still-glowing butt into the bucket and began to sip his coffee. The day is hot and the disposed butts are all dry, and they all begin to smolder. A moment later, a small flame licks about inside the bucket. M, a tall and slightly overweight middle-aged man points to the bucket and says "hey, fire" as if there is nothing to worry about. J looks down and says quite calmly "oh, crap" then proceeds to dump his coffee on it. He fails miserably to hit the target fire and it begins to grow. "Oh. Crap." he says again and goes inside to get some water.
And there are M and T, standing there like idiots, watching the whole thing happen. (this line will become important)
J has the steady nerve of a quail. He is very tall and lanky and so in panic mode his flailing might remind an onlooker of Woody the Cowboy from Toy Story. He's also not the clearest thinker when in said mode and so he gets a tiny cup of water from the breakroom scuttlebutt (technical term for the water dispenser) and runs back outside where the flames have grown to about waist high and flings this little cup of purified water at it.
It does nothing of course, so he responds with an "Oh, crap!" and races back inside for something bigger.
And there are M and T, standing there like idiots, watching the whole thing happen.
J runs to the supply room to get the rolling mop bucket and takes it into the bathroom to fill it up. It is at this point that I am busy answering a collect call from nature, so I am here to witness this part. He fills the bucket and decides he's going to CARRY it out to put out the flames. J is not a graceful man and so three steps into the tile hallway he slips and drops the mop bucket, spilling the entire contents in the hallway with a cry of "crap!"
I'm a little concerned as he races back into the restroom to refill the bucket, so I ask if everything is okay. "yeah." he replies hurriedly and so I shrug it off and head back to my desk. J must have remembered that the bucket had wheels on it and so he races by my cube pushing it on the floor. I lean back in my chair and watch him go out the door, catching a whiff of smoke as he passes through. I just have to check this out, so I walk through asking "do I smell a fire."
By the time I've got the sentence out, I've got my answer. The cig bucket is aflame and the fire has managed to melt through the side of the bucket and set alight the dry straw to burn. J lifts his bucket full of water and makes ready, frantically licking his lips and adjusting his range as he prepares to, by golly, put this fire out. He takes one practice throw, then two, then gives the water a pausive fling.
The water sloshes out and splashes impotently on the ground halfway between J and the fire a mere five feet away, to which J responds (say it with me now) "oh, crap!"
And there are M and T, standing there like idiots, watching the whole thing happen.
M is giggling at the whole situation and says "Hey, you know there is a garden hose right there!" and points to the hose. J shoots him an angry look and grabs the hose, squeezing the nozzle trigger. Nothing happens. There is no pressure to the hose. Juming into action and trying very hard not to laugh, I run to the spicket and turn the water on and J finally douses the straw and half-melted bucket with water. The flames die out and the bucket is a smoking wreck.
Back to work. J decides it is his duty to dispose of the bucket, and since the dumpster is on the other side of the building, he decides to walk through it instead of around, BRINGING THE BUCKET WITH HIM!
The phone rings, a call J has been awaiting all day, and so he sets the bucket down on the carpet just inside the door and we all go back to work and promptly forget.
Until about twenty minutes later a certain smell begins to pervade the room. M calls out "Hey, J, the bucket is on fire again." I peer around the corner as J stands straight up out of his cubicle, eyes wide, the phone still at his ear. Stare, stare, stare "lemme call you back" *click*. Sure enough, the bucket was glowing with flame again, and the already melted edges were warping once more. The carpet was also just then catching fire (where oh where are the smoke alarms?!). J runs to fill his mop bucket and I race over to the wall and grab the fire extinguisher. I begin to spray down the fire as joe races in with a full bucket and begins to pour water on.
And there are M and T, standing there like idiots, watching the whole thing happen.
So J and I have gotten the fire out, and the old cig bucket and the burnt carpet are soaked with water and fire foam when D, the big boss, comes through the door clipboard in hand. He does not see us because he is focused on the clipboard. "J, I need the statistics on..." he notices us "WHAT IN THE HELL DID YOU DO!" And so here are J and I bent over the stinking plastic lump that once was the ciggy bucket staring at D and D is staring back at us, clipboard in one hand and doorknob in the other, eyes wide and mouth agape.
And there are M and T, standing there like idiots, watching the whole thing happen.
And then M pipes up with an amused matter-of-fact "J set the carpet on fire."
...
It wasn't funny then, but I am occasionally requested to tell this one at gatherings of friends, even when there is no one new to hear it.
- always wanted to use that smiley 
I AM the evil bastard!
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