yesterday
I walk over to my boss, papers in hand, ready for our meeting. He’s slumped down on the couch, thousand-yard stare. ”What’s up?” I ask. ”That,” he says, pointing through the window to the building across the street.
I peer out and see a group of people standing on the top floor, staring at us, this written in the window:
“Well… we should probably reply,” I say. He nods and we both go off in search of something to write with.
Five minutes later, we stand back to admire our work.
If this seems familiar, it’s because it’s not the first time we’ve made post-it-note contact with other buildings in the square. But this is a different building, and this is a live conversation. Much more interesting.
A minute later, they reply with what we think is “OUI,” but is actually the beginning of “OURS OR YOURS.”
“Cheeky bastards,” says Jim. I say, “Well, it’s Friday. Why don’t we just invite them to beer o’clock tonight?” It’s a gamble, but he agrees, so I spent a good 20 minutes making and remaking this message:
In the meantime, my coworkers are getting excited about the possibility of this turning into some sort of Wes Anderson movie. “What if someone meets their future husband or wife because of this?” “I wonder if they’re hot? Can you zoom in on your camera to see?”
Behind me, one of our clients interrupts his meeting to call his wife and explain to her, in excited tones, that he’s not sure what is happening right now, but that “it will probably end up on the internet soon.” Someone else refers to our windows as an ‘analog dating site.’
At this point, I am very, very late to a meeting across town, so I hand someone else the post-its and leave. On my way to the car, I look up to see that they’ve issued a new response:
“Can I bring a friend?”
I take this as a good sign and jump in the car.
Two hours later — almost exactly at 5pm — I come running back into the office. ”What happened? Are they coming?”
“They spelled out on the window that they were,” said the girl I put in charge of the post-its. “But I just checked and their lights have all gone out. I think the’ve gone home.” I peered out and realized she was right, they’d all left for the weekend.
News spreads that we won’t be having a joint office party after all, and it feels like we all got stood up. Everyone is disappointed, agreeing the other company is a big cocktease.
As a group, after a few beers, we decide to leave them a message for when they return Monday morning.
Hopefully they’ll learn not to play games with us in the future.
