I salute you for your ability to always be able to sneak up behind me without hearing a sound. I have pretty good hearing, combined with noisy floors in the office. I can tell when the UPS guy drives up. I can tell when my boss talks on his phone down the hall. I can tell when the mousy, 80 pound secretary 2 floors up has the hiccups. Yet, you are able to walk up behind me at my desk, in the breakroom, in the restroom, or in the hallway with me never having a clue of your arrival until you chop 5 minutes from my life due to shock by simply saying “Hi.”
You have no obvious skills. You are a fairly portly fellow, and not one prone to cat-like movements. You aren’t wearing ballet slippers. Nor are you floating on a gentle cushion of air like Arthur Dent. Believe me, I’ve looked.
I could surround my office with broken egg shells, bubble wrap, drowsy monkeys, and more trip wires than Arnold Schwarzenegger laid out in the movie Predator and somehow you would still manage to not attract my attention until you were 6 inches behind my chair.
Short of having graduated from the Jason Bourne school of management with a Master’s degree in Nightcrawler Bamfing, I have no idea how you manage to consistently pull this off. Huzzah, oh silent sentry of the corporate world. It is through your efforts, that I consistently have to worry about being killed by piano wire strangulation.
