Monday, December 21, 2015

A Christmas re-run on office party butt scanning

I woke up thinking I was going to write about the Miss Universe humiliation, but couldn't get a feel for it. So I thought I'd instead re-run this '13 one about office party butt scanning. Consider it a warning.

I was further chagrined that moments after I announced the cancellation of my Pond office Christmas party, Dave expressed a nifty idea that would have made it really Yule special.

“Geez, I was hoping this year we could all sit around getting drunk and Xeroxing our asses on your copy machine.”

His offhand comment led to a bunch of questions about holiday office party butt scanning. How often does it happen? How much ass can your typical photocopier support? 

Happily, there was a bona fide expert just two stools down.

He’s for many productive decades run Latrobe’s premier business supply store. They sell copiers to many of the largest businesses in western Pennsylvania.

See, that’s the thing about The Pond. Every stool has an expert on something.

There are lawyers, engineers, plumbers, electricians, cops, educators, mayors, farmers, newspaper men. Need an instant expert on butt scanning?

The Pond has your ass covered.

Apparently, it happens so frequently I’m surprised copiers don’t come with warning labels advising setting your big, bare ass on the glass could be harmful to your health.

“Yeah, everyone who’s involved in copier repair has dozens of great stories of people who tried to photocopy their butts and broke through the glass,” he said. “And that’s not covered under any of our service warranties.”

He said just a couple of weeks ago one of his techs was called to an area university to service a malfunctioning copier.

“The woman was giving our guy a really hard time, saying that was the second time they’d had to call him in a month. Well, he gets inside there and finds a stuck black and white copy of this great, big ass and two testicles surrounded by a little bird’s nest of pubic hairs.

“He took a good long look at it, showed it to her and said, ‘Ma’am, I don’t think you could say this one was our fault.’”

The guy -- and the evidentiary testicles leave me assuming it’s a guy -- was lucky he didn’t break through. Can you imagine the distress? The embarrassment?

And you thought a typical paper jam was the only case of a broken copier being a real pain in the ass.

He said he has the picture on the wall at his office and invited us to stop by and have a look. Everyone was very enthused.

And I wonder why no one ever accepts my invitation to stop by my office and see the framed picture I have of 1960 Pittsburgh Pirates Roberto Clemente and Dick Groat.

Frankly, the detective in me wonders what he’s doing with the evidence.

If I was the boss of that office, I would have been like Humphrey Bogart as Lt. Comm. Philip Francis Queeg in the outstanding 1954 drama “The Caine Mutiny.”

He was the tyrannical skipper of the minesweeper USS Caine who conducts erratic crew investigations over who pilfered two quarts of fresh strawberries.

I wonder what an investigator as maniacal as Queeg would do with a case of an ass-smashed copy machine, repairs which cost thousands of dollars, and a picture like the one my friend has on his wall.

Me, I’d have assembled everyone who was at the party to meet in a conference room.

Then I’d have shown the people the picture and after waiting for the snickers to subside asked if anyone wanted to confess, hoping no one would.

Then I’d have asked everyone with two testicles to take two steps forward, an instruction which would have eliminated most of the women. If a woman intent on ball-busting the glass ceiling stepped forward, well, her initiative would be noted.

The obvious next step would be conducting a suspect line-up or a I guess a suspect bend-over. But labor relations would likely frown on that tactic.

So I’d tell them to relax, the investigation was over and thank them for their patience.

Then on the way out, I’d give each of them a friendly pat on the butt like the coaches do after one of his players sacks the QB.

I’d know I’d have my man the instant one of them jumped even a little bit.

Of course, I’d wait until after the holidays.

No point bumming anyone out.

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