You’ll get to know a little more about her, and your last couple gifts will smooth over any issues she had with this one. It’s always better to make friends than enemies, right? Especially if those friends are friends with the person who decides your continued employment status.
You wait until you know she’ll be in an all-manager’s meeting and head over to her cube.
You start poking around, hoping for inspiration.
The cube is painfully neat, even the pens separated into different holders based on color and size. No personal photos are tacked on the wall, hinting at hobbies; no kitschy toys or cube-art give a sense of her taste; even her screensaver is just black expanse being replaced by white, then the white by black, black, white, black, white.
You turn to her bookshelf.
I’m Disgusted! How to Shame for Maximum Results
That’s Not Funny: 1,000 More Jokes No One Should Be Laughing At
Essays on the Lasting Pain of Other People Not Thinking Like You Do
Jesus fucking Christ.
Resigning yourself to getting reamed out for whatever you give–even if you found some perfect, shame-inducing Wiccan amulet (is that what they use?) she’d probably rail at you for appropriating her beliefs–you pull open the file cabinet drawer.
You expect to find brutally orderly files marching into the black.
Instead you find a silky-haired dog. You can see the glint of bared teeth from here.
The animal is totally motionless, staring rigidly at the side of the cabinet. Tentatively, you reach down to pat its head. It doesn’t move. And it’s strangely cold.
You bend down for a better look. Ah, that explains it: it’s not moving because it’s dead. And stuffed. And has little glass marble eyes that are staring right into your soul.
If you want to give her some weird, dead-dog-related gift, click here.
If you want to tell HR that Bev is possibly psychotic, click here.
Loving the mini-adventure? They’re just the beginning of the misery. Make sure to pre-order your copy of Choose Your Own Misery: The Office Adventure today!