Old Journal Entries never die.....they just get posted:
Gruff, older middle-aged man, not completely assimilated, walks over to friend's cube (aka known by my stepson as a 'veal fattening pen'). He is of that exquisitely rare type, that hot-house flower, the never-been married 50ish man. He maintains a sort of razor-sharpness (perhaps due to having never had a poor night's sleep). He is rough edges all extant, eccentricities allowed to flourish, his world untrammelled by the paths oft taken, he lives eagle-eyed for trespass and finds in my friend the troubled youth he never had:
"What are you doing sending notes like that? I don't know anything about the LAD database project!".
My friend had sent a note out to the whole dep't, on orders from his boss & boss's boss, with a helpful EOM ('end of message') at the end. The note applied to the older man, whether he cared or not, albeit no action was required. He reminded me faintly of a drunken neighbor we once had when I was a kid, a man whose world view was such that anything out of the ordinary was eyed suspiciously: "What you readin' a book fer, son?" My buddy (aka "Bone") had sent out a note that smelled suspicious.
That this guy would take the time to walk over instead of call or write over a matter of such triviality left me awed. I put off going to the bathroom when I need to, just to avoid the inconvenience of rising, and here this guy rushes to my friend's desk like it's a 4-alarm fire. All over a no-line note.
My buddy, blindsided & unaware of his trespass on the other's Lotus kingdom, suppresses the instinct to lash or laugh.
"Just delete it....You know..."