A few minutes ago I was shelving books and then came back to the circulation desk to find my boss standing there, looking a little bewildered and holding a box. The box, once opened and haphazardly closed again, is about 2x2x1. I wonder, “Is he going to give me the box? Is it a gift? Does he have a new project he needs me to start?”
“Rich, what’s with the box?” I ask.
The middle aged man snaps back into existence and looks at me. “I was having a quandary,” he says. “I was just wondering why more people don't play volleyball with boxes.”
He then beings to set the box multiple times in the middle of the library.
I laugh hysterically and then remind him that not only are the corners dangerous, but the game would be over as soon as someone spiked it.