Post-it Partum

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Oh my god. This has made my day! What better way to smoke out the Phantom Noter than an inter-office witch hunt?! The last time we had one of these here, it was a cross between the McCarthy hearings and the Nuremberg trials.  Largely over e-mail and all about a missing stapler. (It was eventually returned anonymously, but reeked of the homeless.)

Last week, fearing some kind of reprisal for getting caught hiding all of the Post-its in the office, I decided to stash them in a plastic grocery bag behind the potted plant in the I.T. guy's office. They're very eco-friendly here, so that would be doubly damning.  Plus, he's a dick, so it might even make me a folk hero among my co-workers when we look back on this at the Christmas party. I've asked him seven times to fix my computer and he keeps brushing me off, so he can burn in Hell. (But after the company picnic, because he makes the best ambrosia salad.)