The Unfortunate Tale of the Office Plant
Every office has that one person who takes their job a little too seriously. For Jason, that person was Karen from marketing. Karen had an air of authority about her, though her role in the office was, at best, vaguely defined. She was the kind of person who showed up every day with a fancy coffee mug, a meticulously organized desk, and an array of personal items that screamed "I have my life together."
Jason, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. He had an unruly pile of paperwork, his coffee mug was chipped, and his desk was more of a "zone of chaos" than an actual workspace. But there was one thing Jason could always count on: Karen’s obsession with her office plant.
It was a monstrosity. A potted plant that sat in the corner of the office, reaching for the ceiling like a green, leafy skyscraper. It had been there for months, maybe even a year. Karen would occasionally water it, giving it a pep talk that no one really understood.
"I know you can do it, little fern," she’d say, "You’re looking strong today."
Jason had always found it amusing. But he didn’t realize how much of an issue the plant was until the day he got assigned the task of taking care of it.
It started innocently enough. Karen had been away on a business trip, and someone had to water her precious plant. Jason, feeling unusually responsible that day, volunteered. He figured it would be easy. "Water the plant, maybe talk to it a bit, and let it be."
But no. Karen had specific instructions.
"You have to water it exactly every two days, Jason," Karen had said, her tone serious as if Jason were taking on a mission of national importance. "And be sure to check the soil moisture with your finger. Don’t just dump the water in. It has to be the right amount. Not too much, not too little."
Jason nodded solemnly, not quite sure what he was agreeing to but knowing that this wasn’t just any plant—it was "Karen’s Plant." He didn’t want to mess this up.
On the first day, Jason was confident. He gave the plant a light sprinkle of water and then patted it gently as if it were a small child. Everything seemed fine. The next day, Karen texted him to ask how the plant was doing.
"All good!" Jason replied. "It’s thriving."
But on the second day, Jason found himself standing in front of the plant again, holding the watering can. He bent down and poked the soil with his finger, like Karen had instructed. It felt fine. Maybe a little dry, but not too much. Jason hesitated for a second, wondering if he was overthinking it.
"I’ve got this," he whispered to himself, as if trying to reassure his own nerves.
And that’s when things took a turn for the worse.
Without thinking, he gave the plant a solid pour of water, feeling confident in his decision. But then, to his horror, the water didn’t stop. It kept pouring and pouring, flooding the base of the pot, the soil no longer absorbing it fast enough.
"Oh no," Jason muttered, pulling the watering can away. But it was too late. The plant’s pot was soaked through, and water was beginning to spill onto the floor.
Panicking, Jason grabbed a paper towel and tried to mop up the water, but it was like trying to stop the ocean with a sponge. He shoved a bunch of tissues under the pot and tried to balance it, but the plant kept wobbling, looking like it was about to topple over.
In his panic, he didn’t notice the group of coworkers who had gathered around, watching the disaster unfold in real-time.
"Jason, what happened to the plant?" asked Claire from sales, her voice laced with concern.
"I—I might’ve overwatered it a bit," Jason stammered, his face turning red.
"What do you mean ‘a bit’?" Claire asked, raising an eyebrow.
The plant, as if on cue, dropped a leaf to the floor with a faint splat. Jason stared at it. Was it dying? Was the plant dying because of him?
"I’ll fix this, I swear," he said, already scheming in his head. Maybe he could sneak into Karen’s office later and replace the plant with another one before she came back. Surely she wouldn’t notice, right?
But before he could make his escape, Karen walked through the door.
Her eyes immediately went to her beloved plant, which now looked like a sad, waterlogged mess.
"Jason," she said, her voice sharp. "What did you do to my plant?"
Jason froze. It felt like time had slowed down. He glanced around, and the whole office had gathered to watch him. Everyone knew it was over.
"I—I might have overwatered it," he confessed. "But I can fix it. I promise!"
Karen, however, was not having it. "You know, Jason," she began, "This plant has been with me through thick and thin. It’s not just a plant—it’s family. You’ve... you’ve broken the trust between us."
Jason’s eyes widened. Family? It was a plant. A plant that clearly didn’t know the meaning of moderation.
"Okay, okay," Jason said quickly. "I’ll buy you a new one. A better one. I’ll even get a fancy pot for it!"
But Karen wasn’t convinced. She crossed her arms. "A new plant won’t fix this, Jason. This plant has seen things. It’s been through so much."
Jason sighed. "Can’t we just... pretend this didn’t happen? Like, I’ll bring it back to life, maybe give it a leaf transplant or something."
Karen shook her head. "It’s over. You can’t fix the past."
And with that, Jason realized he had just lost the war against an office plant. The rest of the day went on as usual, but he felt the weight of Karen’s disappointment. When the workday ended, he silently slipped into the office plant shop down the street, bought a new fern, and quietly swapped it out for the ruined one.
When Karen returned the next morning and noticed the new plant, she smiled. "See? That’s better. You’ve redeemed yourself, Jason."
Jason couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over him. He had survived the plant crisis.
But as he walked away, he couldn’t help but think that maybe next time, he’d just let Karen handle her plant... and he’d stick to his desk, where the only thing he needed to water was his coffee mug.
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