I was sleeping the little sleep – napping – when a tall, blonde ankled into my office.

“Well, my lunch was stolen again today!” he bleated, planting his slender hands on his slender hips, staring petulantly down at me. “Second time this week!”

I pawed sand out of my eyes, cursing the casual office attire policy that allowed men to wear shorts at work. “What’d ya want me to do about it?” I gritted, shuffling some blank papers around on my desk like I was busy.

Andreas Scolari, our one-man accounts payable department, huffed, “I expect you to find out who the thief is. You are the office manager, aren’t you?”