3am. Urgo and I were heading home for the night when an iron patio chair came across my path. Chicago was frigid but we were buzzed with holiday excitement, karaoke, and $2 beers. Yes. I picked up the chair and took it along.
"Aren't we right by Draft?" Urgo spurred the thought and I vocalized it by responding "Yes! Let's bring Michael a gift of love. And Iron!"
Security didn't look twice as we scanned our cards and headed to the elevator with a black metal chair in my arms.
We headed straight to floor 18. Giggles were endless as we waited for the doors to open. Once the sheets of polished steel opened, we bee-lined it for Michael's cubicle.
The next three minutes saw a flurry of activity. Michael's ergonomic company chair was replaced with a cast iron, frozen metal patio chair. Little did I know, Urgo stole his magnetic name tag which he proudly mounted in front of his cubicle for the world to see. How would he know he belonged in this cubicle? We left him our token greeting. In writing.
"Hi Michael." was scribbled onto a sheet of printing paper with a brown sharpie for Michael to know he was loved. We hope.
Last I heard, Urgo walked by and saw Michael situated on a old, nasty looking brown replacement chair.
Michael 0, Greenhouse 3.