Let me tell you a story about my pet rabbit “Oscar”.
I had been given a rather large, unused room in the basement of one of the buildings to clean out and use as an office, for storage of the massive volume of the division’s maintenance and calibration records, and as a calibration shop for my use and for vendors.
The area was very well lit and fairly spacious, by all standards, and I had even installed a speaker system throughout connected to my favorite elevator music on XM Radio. It was indeed an oasis in an otherwise dimly lit and unpopulated part of the plant.
Anyway, time came for the interviews and the best candidate was selected for the tasks at hand. Over time, it became painfully obvious that this well-educated and highly-experienced lady and I were headed for some rocky ground. A good and accurate worker she was, but our personalities were quite obviously at opposite ends of the spectrum.
One day, not too far into her stay, the lady asked how I managed to work alone in such a dark and lonesome area. The subject came up almost daily after that, and then on one occasion she inquired if I ever missed having someone in the office all of the time; someone to talk with; someone for company. I sensed immediately that it was time for an acid test.
“Oh,” I said, “but I do have. My pet rabbit Oscar.”
It became deathly quiet, and as I turned my head from what I was doing at the time, I could see that the hook was being set.
“Oscar…? Pet rabbit…?” It was impossible for her to hide the perplexed look washing across her face.
“Oh yes,” I said, “he’s around here somewhere. We chat all the time. He’s great company,” my own stony expression hiding the mischief within. Nothing more was said the remainder of the day.
I stayed after work and looked around on Google Images until I found just what I needed. Printing it out in living color, I proceeded to place it in an appropriate location, and left the office content with the unfolding events.
The next day my courageous assistant arrived and quietly proceeded with her duties. I’m sure she was doing her best to conceal her concerns about what she had gotten herself into. Finally, no longer able to restrain herself, she inquired rather timidly as to Oscar’s whereabouts.
“He’s right here, somewhere…oh, look! There he is,” and I pointed to “Oscar” peering from within his lair, to the picture I had taped to the wall, at floor level, just between a filing cabinet and a bookcase. And with that, she rose quickly from her seat and came to my side, to see for herself.
Returning slowly to her seat, the day went quietly by, except for the soft music heard just above the rush of the air exchanger.
As I remember, this very diligent and competent lady didn’t stay with us very long after that.
I guess she didn’t like rabbits.