David went to Starbucks and picked up his usual double macchiato latte and returned to find something curious. He returned to the third floor kitchen intent on filling his water bottle for the afternoon (he had made a 2016 resolution to stay more hydrated) but the water bottle was gone.
He searched the sink, the dishwasher. Nothing. He walked to his desk thinking perhaps a good samaritan had seen it in the kitchen and erroneously returned it. It was not there.
"Have you seen my water bottle?" David asked Katie who was grabbing a bag of White Cheddar cheez-its from the kitchen. I left it in here to dry before I went to Starbucks and now it's gone.
"No, sorry. Maybe someone mistook for their own water bottle?"
Possibly, David thought to himself, yet unlikely. Water bottles are quite personal, how could one mistake it? Sure it was a rather plain, indistinguishable stainless steel water bottle.
But that chip. He kept coming back to that chip…
It wasn't a small chip, David had been looking at his watch, tracking his heart rate when he slipped on some rocks. David fell hard, but the water bottle took the brunt of the trauma. As his sherpa helped him up, David cursed himself for losing focus. He saw the now one inch indentation on his water bottle, it hadn't punctured fortunately. The water bottle would survive, just a new scar, a new story.
So if someone didn't mistake it for their own…maybe they just borrowed it?
It was after all a 'shared' kitchen. There were plates and bowls in the kitchen that were for use by everybody. Hell, David himself used Megan's coffee mug sometimes when he was working late. But a water bottle just struck him as an odd thing to borrow. They're so personal, right? Maybe he was just being weird, the water bottle will show up.
24 hours passed and the water bottle did not show up. David did his due diligence by asking all of the writers on his floor.
"Have you seen my water bottle?" He asked a passing producer.
"Sorry man, I haven't."
It started to dawn on him that maybe someone was playing a prank on him. He was a cool guy, but certainly not the kind of cool that would absolve one from office hijinks.
Who would play a prank on David the writers assistant? Maybe Victor in post, the assistant editor with the cool socks. He seemed like the type of guy that would love to punk an angsty thirtysomething. Just like the jokester that was stealing packages off of his patio in Venice. He had started having his fresh fruit boxes sent to the office. Sure he caught a few friendly jabs for having organic fruit sent to work, but still it was better than some Los Angeles bandit making off with his juicy pluots.
David decided to ask Hannah, the Post PA is anyone in the editorial department had been seen with a stainless steel water bottle.
"Sorry David, the only person in our department that uses a water bottle is Kurt, and his is plastic."
He returned to his desk dejected. It would be very odd for someone to STEAL his water bottle. Nearly everyone on this floor made well over $3000 a week. Why would a wealthy person take a used water bottle with a notable one inch chip in it?
Perhaps he ought to check downstairs. Maybe one of the office PAs would know something…
While walking down the stairs he had a thought, fleeting, but embarrassing. Would it have been the maid? Of course not, she doesn't work during the day.
David walked into the production office, home of Jennifer Nate and Dave. Jennifer was playing Haim Pandora, David rolled his eyes.
"Have you guys seen a stainless steel water bottle?"
Dave didn't look up from his computer. He was likely blogging about cocaine and hookers.
"It disappeared on Monday, I've asked all of the writers and editors…"
Dave dramatically stopped typing.
"Did you say Monday?"
"Ya."
"I know someone who was upstairs on Monday…"
THE STORY WILL CONTINUE WITH PART 2: The Suspects.
No comments:
Post a Comment