My office participated in a fake earthquake the other day. The reason for doing so was to prepare us for the real thing. I think people should say that when they get caught faking orgasm.
My job, assigned by me, was to take photos of people properly staging under the desks when the alarm blared. I found several people who were oblivious and others who were obediently holding on under their desk. When the alarm advised us to exit the building, we did so like cattle with nowhere to go. “Do you want me to shove someone so you can get a good picture?” my coworker asked. “That might be a good idea,” I replied. She went on, “When I was under my desk I found a piece of candy, in a wrapper, so I unwrapped it and ate it. Then I sent a text to my son saying, “I’m under my desk eating candy I found there.’ He probably thinks I’m crazy.” “There’s a good chance,” I replied.
Once in the parking lot I ran into our leadership team. “Did you drop, cover, and hold on?” I asked. “What to do you call me, an auditor and a division director under my desk?” one director asked me. “A HR complaint,” I replied, then snapped a picture of everyone shivering in the cold outside while the fake quake shook nothing.
Later that day I met up with a coworker at a different office and we shared stories from the exercise. “I realized I’ve got to lose weight. I almost got stuck under my desk,” she said. “Glad you got out alive and unscathed,” I consoled her. “Alive, yes. Unscathed, no. I’m still fat.”