29. Toys“I don’t understand the toys,” Marjorie said, picking up the die-cast Millennium Falcon. “You’re a grown man. Why do you have toys on your desk?”

Since an answer didn’t popped to the top of his mind, Jack decided to go on offense.

“Why does it matter to you?” he asked, snatching it back.

“It just looks… unprofessional,” she said. “Do you play with them? Do you make little ‘pew-pew’ sounds?”

Not for the first time, Jack wished that Marjorie had more work to do, so she didn’t feel so free to roam the office. “I don’t make ‘pew-pew’ sounds. I just like looking at them. You have a cactus on your desk. Does that help your productivity?”

“My cactus is a living thing,” she said. “Your toys are just… toys.”

“I’m a designer. I need inspiration,” Jack said. “You’re a coder. Go code. Maybe the cactus will pitch in or something.”

“Some of the guys around me have toys on their desks, too. Is it a guy thing? Are you all just… developmentally stunted or something?”

Jack wondered what kind of report HR would have to file if he started throwing things at her. He didn’t think anyone in the office would mind, but still. Paperwork.

“Tell you what,” he said. “Maybe we can arrange a play date between your cactus and the Falcon.”

“Whatever,” she said. As she walked away, Jack wondered if he could clock her in the back of her head with toy ship.