It’s all fun and games until somebody gets slimed

In a previous life, I worked in an environment where we were free to be ourselves in the office (so to speak). None of that stiff shirted, starched collared, buttoned down business life for us. Though shirts and ties where the typical dress code of the day, the formality of normal corporate life went unenforced. As a result, we took full advantage of our freedom. The plain English version of what I am trying to say is, practical jokes were a way of life and beware to those that didn’t pay attention.

The number one practical joker was a person I’ll call Brian. Brian was an old phone company guy. As such, he had an entire arsenal of practical jokes. Some of them were clever, some not so clever. He would take the ear piece from the phone, tape down the switch hook. Forward your phone to the janitor and all kinds of other mindless pranks. Brian’s favorite target was a guy I’ll call Timmy. Timmy was a Walter Mitty type guy. It seemed like every morning he had another wild story to tell. He was always the hero. He was always rescuing someone from a burning car wreck, saving the wife from a 50 foot falling pine tree or rescuing the neighbor from a frozen lake. Funny thing though, none of Timmy’s heroic acts were ever in the paper or witnessed by another living sole. This became perfect fodder for Brian in his quest for harrassment. And Brian harassed Timmy at every opportunity, public or private.

We were working in Boston. Travel was dominated by either the “shuttle” or train schedule. People were always rushing to catch something at the last minute. As such, even short delays could result in missing a train and a late trip home. Brian would do whatever he could to delay Timmy. For example, Brian would zip tie one sleeve in Tim’s jacket, usually the left sleeve. This worked best if there was an inner sleeve to the coat, like in Ski jackets. Why the left sleeve you ask? Most people will put their right arm in their jacket first. It was funny to watch people struggle to get their left arm in and not be able to do it. It usually took a minute or two for people to catch on to what was happening. Timmy would grab his coat and go tearing down the hall way, arms flailing trying to get his jacket on only to realize too late that the inner sleeve had been tied shut. There were dozens of little things that were done just to harass Timmy. Brian would fill up one sleeve in Tim's coat with old, damp newspaper. He’d fill his pockets with packing peanuts, he’d turn the fingers of Timmy’s gloves inside out, he’d adjust the size of Timmy’s hat. All little things, but just annoying enough that Timmy would have to stop to fix them, usually in full view of the office.

I kept trying to get Timmy to respond. I kept giving Timmy good little ideas for getting even. But Timmy was timid. Timmy didn’t want to stir up trouble.

Then came the final straw. When the office was remodeled, whoever put the coat rack back up must have been a giant. The coat rack was mounted pretty high on the wall. Timmy would hang up his coat and throw his hat on the shelf. Timmy was not abnormally short or anything, but when he went to get his hat at the end of the day, he could only reach it by standing on his tippy toes and stretching up as far as he could. He could just barely get it. After witnessing this for a couple of days, Brian though it would be funny, to push the hat back as far as he could. And it was hysterical. There was Timmy hopping up and down like a puppy trying to reach the hat. After witnessing this for myself one day, I looked at Brian and said “You know what would be really funny, is if you filled the hat up with packing peanuts.” So Brian did. And it was really funny. I’m talking 3 Stooges funny. There’s the whole office watching Timmy jump up and down to get his hat and when he finally does, he’s drenched in packing peanuts.

The next morning, Timmy was still mad. He was talking to me about how mad he was and what a jerk Brian was for that trick. I seized on this opportunity to try to talk Timmy into getting even. I suggested that Timmy fill the toe of Brian’s shoe with Vaseline. It’s not uncommon for folks to leave a set of shoes in the office. They usually have an old pair of shoes for getting to and from the office, then a good set for wearing at the office. I tried to convince Tim, that this presented him with a golden opportunity for evening the score. But Tim didn’t want to ruin a good set of shoes. I said “No problem, do it to the shoes he wears to and from the office, he won’t mind. Those are his crappy shoes anyway”. Tim was still reluctant. I finally told him that if he taped a baggie inside a shoe, he could fill up the baggie with the Vaseline and the shoe would be protected. With that, Timmy’s face lit up. The wheels of revenge were turning.

The next day, this devious plan was put into action. Timmy waited for Brian to go to a meeting in the boss’s office, and then staged a commando raid to get a shoe. He snuck around the back of the cubicles (these were 4 foot cubes BTW). He hid behind poles so as not to be seen. He belly crawled the last 10 feet into the cube. He grabbed a shoe, hid it under his shirt and then made a beeline for the men’s room. Once safely hidden in a stall, Timmy put his master plan into action. He carefully taped a baggie into the toe of the LEFT shoe. Everyone puts the right shoe on first. It would lull Brian into a false sense of security if only the left one were booby trapped. Once the baggie was secured, Timmy filled it with Vaseline. My idea was to just put a little blob in the toe. Timmy reasoned that if Brian noticed the baggie, he might not put his foot in all the way. Timmy decided he should fill the entire toe of the shoe. He must have used a half a tub of the stuff. Once the shoe is rigged, Timmy very carefully put it back in place. Another commando raid was staged on Brian’s cube. We’re talking a 40 year old man in a white shirt and tie crawling around the office with one shoe full of Vaseline. And everybody knew what was going on. Timmy even asked people for help. He had look outs at the ready to run interference for him, just in case Brian’s meeting looked like it was ending early. The shoe was replaced and we all eagerly awaited the end of the day.

The day ended and Brian was getting ready to leave. He kicked off his dress shoes and started to put on the commuting shoes. The whole office was now watching. He got the right one on, and then slipped his foot into the left. It looked like he was going to vomit. It was the slowest reaction I had ever seen. His eyes grew large the corners of his mouth curled down and a very guttural uuuuugggggghhhhhhhhh echoed from his throat. He pulled his foot from the shoe, and it was just dripping with Vaseline. He knew immediately what had happened, and who had done it. And there was nothing he could say or do about it. He peeled off his sock and hobbled to the men’s room to try to clean up. The entire office was roaring. There was no cleaning this up, at least in the office. He came out of the men’s room looking like someone had punched him in the stomach. There was no getting the Vaseline out of the sock or shoe. Oh sure, he got a lot of it out, but not all of it. And that baggie thing? It didn’t really work. When he slid his foot into the shoe, the baggie just pushed into the toe. You could see Vaseline oozing out from under the tongue and between the laces.

Brian had no choice but to put the sock back on, put his foot back into the shoe and go home. When he got home, his wife took one look at his foot and threw the socks and shoes away. Brain later said his foot was water repellant and slippery for days. On the plus side, Brian had one really soft supple foot.

After this, Brian pretty much left Timmy alone. Timmy beamed about the great Vaseline prank for months afterwards. Tim never ratted me out either. He never told Brian that I’m the one that gave him the idea or that I had put him up to it. He wanted full credit.