More Anthropology Adventures.

I was wondering how long it would be before a weird job related thing would happen, as all of my jobs like to spite me just a little bit, and the time is here.

I know many of you will say, "Please, Amy. You've received mafia letters, are conducting a genealogy of someone who might get deported, this is not the first weird work related thing to happen."

It's true, I would say in response, but this is the first thing that's been specifically directed at me. The other things I just sort of jumped in front of, if you know what I mean.

It all started a few weeks ago. I received a message in my Facebook inbox from someone I didn't recognize. It said, "You Rock!" I responded with, "Interesting, thank you. Have we met?" He claims he hit the wrong Amy, and that that's what he gets for being on the computer without contacts in. Yeah, right. I ignored the request.

It was not long after this that I realized, thanks to a janitorial plaque with pictures courtesy of UND, that the guy is one of our building's janitors. The next week I come into my office and find the single of Journey "Lights" sitting on my desk. I left it in the exact same spot I found it for more than a week and it never went away, but my garbage was always changed.

Last week I get in and I noticed a bootlegged copy of Stevie Ray Vaughn sitting on the student workers desk right outside my office. Definitely home made, from a concert in 1989 with Santana. I thought, well, at least he's not leaving them for me any more, and added Journey to the pile.

Then I get here today, and the Stevie Raye Vaughn CD has been moved from the student workers desk and is now on MY desk, but Journey remains where I put it.

What the fuck, dude.

Stevie Ray Vaughn is an excellent guitar player, but he's a douche, and I hardly ever listen to him. Journey, I listen to at the bar and make fun of all the really drunk people singing, "Just a small town girl..." by throwing entirely too witty for their sloshed minds to comprehend remarks at them.

I do not want the janitor to leave me anything, let alone really shitty music. Plus, am I supposed to keep these? Does he want them back? I don't even want to find out unless he plans on leaving an autographed Tom Waits record, or tickets to Simon and Garfunkel, or money.

I hope this doesn't become a problem, I would like to feel comfortable in my office and not like there might possibly be a camera taping me. I'm a jammer, and I want to jam out Bohemian Rhapsody in peace.

Not only that, but the only reason I even know it's the janitor leaving them is because I'm a freakin' sleuth. As far as he's concerned I don't know who's leaving them, and that's a billion time creepier.

Dear Janitor - I know your name, I'm just choosing not to use it here,

If you're reading this, please stop leaving me CD's. I'm flattered and appreciative, but more than that I'm creeped out. Even worse than that, the student workers are creeped out. So, please stop.

Thanks,

Amy