My vice president of marketing Sherm Schweinbumser entered his office and flicked on the light, never noticing that I was standing adjacent to the door with my back to the wall. He made a beeline for his desk and as he turned to sit, I shot forward with my right fist raised.
“Ah-ha!” I yelled.
“Holy smokes!” he said, eyes all but jumping from their sockets. He missed the chair by a good inch, and his teeth snapped together loudly as he plopped to the ground.
“Didn’t expect an ambush, did you Schweinbumser?”
“No I did not,” he said, rising to one knee. “What the — what are you doing here, boss?”
“What I’m doing here isn’t the question, you goldbricker! It’s what you’re doing here — fifteen minutes after you were supposed to be back from lunch!”
“Am I late?” He gave his watch a troubled look. “Are you sure? I could’ve sworn I was only gone an hour.”
“Of course I’m sure!” I said while exiting the room. “Don’t let it happen again!”
I slammed the door behind me, leaving Schweinbumser to ponder the error of his ways. Though in fairness, he wasn’t actually late. In fact, I’d stepped into his office to see if he had any revealing photos of his wife laying around, only to be nearly caught in the act on account of his eerily robotic punctuality. Seriously, what kind of white collar executive only takes an hour for lunch?
So yes, the ambush was just a ruse — but a damn fine one if I do say so myself. OZ-1 out.