No-one bites. We all have real jobs. Technically even me, even if no-one's quite sure what it is, and I'm actually wrestling with a stupidly formatted and security-locked "correct-these-details-and-return" form from one of our myriad idiot suppliers*.
Ted senses the ambivalence and wanders over to the Stress Fiend's desk. "Well, look at this!" he says more loudly, just to make sure he gets someone's attention. "This slipped past me!"
(All of this can only mean he's found something he's afraid of getting in trouble for and doesn't think he can cover up, so he's trying to show how careful he is by double-checking his own work. Which probably means that it's something irrelevant, because if it was actually important either the Stress Fiend or I would have seen some trace of it by now.)
The only thing less surprising than this is the complete lack of surprise from everyone else in the office. Appearing slightly offended at the lack of reaction, or perhaps simply worried that he's losing his audience, Ted E. produces a piece of paper with flourish.
"Look," he urges the Stress Fiend. "I missed this, somehow."
The Stress Fiend glances at the paper, grunts dismissively and goes on with her work.
Ted returns to his desk and begins sulking. It's a Friday, so this means he'll either leave extra early today, or stay extra late (maybe even until 3.30!) to demonstrate what a martyr he is.
* That is, suppliers who are idiots, rather than suppliers of idiots. We're entirely self-sufficient in that respect.
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