Nobody meant for the prank to become a legal category.
It started with a harmless office swap: two framed certificates exchanged between neighboring cubicles, just enough to confuse both owners before lunch. The culprit enjoyed the reaction, so the next day brought a second stunt. Someone’s ergonomic chair was replaced with a throne rented from a costume shop. By Friday, every computer mouse on the floor had been wrapped individually in aluminum foil.
Management called a meeting.
That was a mistake.
The culprit discovered that rules made mischief more interesting. A memo banning “unauthorized humorous interference” inspired a fake compliance department. A warning about impersonating executives produced an entire fabricated board meeting, complete with agendas, nameplates, and a consultant who turned out to be somebody’s cousin.
Each stunt demanded something larger.
Soon the office elevator announced fictional floors. The vending machines dispensed fortune cookies containing performance reviews. A visiting vice president spent twenty minutes following signs to a Wellness Annex that did not exist.
Human Resources stopped using the word prank.
They chose “shenanigan.”
The culprit loved it.
Then the building’s sprinkler system released biodegradable confetti during a quarterly earnings call.
That brought lawyers.
The final notice was very clear: one additional shenanigan would result in immediate termination, civil action, and possible criminal referral.
The culprit behaved impeccably for eleven days.
On the twelfth, every employee arrived to find the office exactly as they had left it.
No altered signs. No hidden speakers. No fake memos. Nothing strange at all.
By noon, productivity had collapsed.
People kept checking beneath desks. Executives opened cabinets cautiously. Security reviewed footage searching for an event that had not happened.
At 3:17, the CEO received a single envelope.
Inside was a blank sheet of paper.
Beneath it, handwritten in tiny letters, was one sentence:
Made you look.
The company’s attorneys argued for termination.
The CEO overruled them.
Some talent, he decided, was too dangerous to let the competition hire.
©2012 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys
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