Today when I walked into work, I was welcomed by the stench of rotting pumpkin. Yes, the pumpkin someone so festively put on the shelf above my desk was completely deflated and oozing multi-colored goo. My supervisor was running around putting all of the other dead - but not yet oozing - pumpkins on a big cart to take to the dumpster. Mine must have been the oldest since it was by far the most rotten. He couldn't pick it up. He asked for my help and while I was mumbling about how I don't get paid enough, I came up with a brilliant plan. I looked at him with a perfectly straight face and said, "Sorry Mike, my gag-reflex is a little trigger happy, we don't want to create more mess than we've already got." He knew what I was playing at. He raised his eyebrows, but didn't say a word. Luckily, an eager-to-please new hire came bounding up just then to ask if he could go on break. Mike told him he could, if he helped him with the rot on my desk. The poor sucker did it. Maybe he doesn't know that he's legally entitled to that break and could've walked away from the multi-colored smiling carcass and spent his 15-minutes of bliss with the X-box in the break room. Mike and I gave each other a knowing look, I raised my eyebrows in return. We've worked together way too long. This, my friends, is why I continue to work for Mike. I play him, he plays new hire, and while we're both perfectly aware of what the other is doing, we have an unspoken agreement: I clean your rot, you clean mine.