My last post outlined the heinous crime to which I now dedicate my waking hours to solving. This post is to outline the beginnings of my hunt, and how the fiend may be much slier than I had thought.
I’ve watched enough crime thrillers to know what the detective must do first; outline the tools they shall use to find the hideously immoral villain. My tools: nothing. With the prep work out of the way, I can begin to tell the story of my initial investigations.
After recovering from the frankly life-altering realisation that not only did there exist a pen thief in my general vicinity, but that I may have until now called them a friend, I began the exploration. I hoped that lacking all morals, the perpetrator may also lack all brains. Where does a person leave their pens? In plain sight.
Now traditionally I leave my magnifying glass at home on all week days ending in ‘y’, so all physical searches had to be performed unaided. Fortunately the subject of my search, pen pots, are by their very nature easy to subtly examine. Under the guise of ‘work’ I began my tour of the whole office, stopping at each desk to slyly start some false conversation. Whilst distracting my suspect with subtle guile and wit, I examined each and every pot. I say the ‘whole’ office, but after only two people the feral pen thief must have sniffed me out and spread the word, as I found all future colleagues waiting for me with a covered pot and a middle finger. Bloody whatsapp. I guess in hindsight the banner I made could have potentially been less conspicuous. Regardless, the two I searched bore no fruit.
With plan A out of the window, I had to concoct another devilish scheme if I was to examine the rest. But how? They were on to me, how could I possibly sneak around all the remaining desks? The answer was simple, the tea run. Branded as a hero, they who willingly volunteer themselves for the tea run instantly propel themselves to the halls of legend among the general office mob. I would use this new found glory to allow my search to continue. And may I say, it worked gloriously. Like a dull Father Christmas I showered the office with my herbal treats, through the office I skipped depositing my Builders tea, my English Breakfast, and my finest Earl Grey. Too busy singing and dancing, the poor fools let their concentration slip from their oh-so-precious pen pots just long enough for my eyes to do their work. On and on I went, but bigger and bigger did my desperation grow. Nothing. NOTHING. All I found were Biro’s and bloody sharpies! Not so much as a nice pen lid in sight. Finishing back at my desk, and sinking hopelessly in my chair, I had no choice but to except that yet again my plan had failed. That yet again, another must be created an executed.
You really are sneaky, whoever you are. Rest assured that my next plan will be even greater, and even bolder. Know that I will find you, and that I will put an end to your terrible ways.