Talk about a loaded statement for a Tuesday morning.
A few months back I decided to spice up my desk, took a trip to that horticultural haven known as Ikea, and bought myself a cute little flower pot and put a money tree in it (with the hopes that a growing money tree on my desk may translate to a growing paycheck). Given my track record with fish, I should have known this was a terrible idea. I watered the tree every few weeks, then I over-watered the tree, and then I eventually stopped watering the tree because I thought I had over-watered it. But damn did it look nice for those first two weeks (see below).
Apparently it's been depressing the shit out of everyone in my office for the past month.
In their defense, it was an incredibly pathetic display of life. The leaves were crispy and brown, and the soil dried up so the poor thing slumped over all wimpy and depressed. But in my defense, I did what I thought needed to be done...give it some space, like a month of dark, dingy, space. So my co-workers "Take-Back-Jordan's-Dead-Plant Movement" must have gained enough momentum that my boss swooped in undetected, moved the plant to the living plant community located on another file cabinet where happy plants go to thrive, watered it adequately and brought that sucker back to full fruition.
It's basically my cubicle's version of Jesus' Resurrection. A true Easter miracle. And if there's one positive to come from this semi-humiliating conversation, it's that this money tree is right where it's supposed to be...about five cubicles away from me.