Mike hated Mondays. But this particular Monday was worse than usual. His boss, Mr. Simmons, had just announced a mandatory meeting in the conference room, which Mike knew was code for an hour of meaningless pie charts.
But that wasn't what ruined Mike's day.
What ruined his day was when he walked into the office and discovered that his beloved chair—his perfectly adjusted, memory-foam-cushioned, armrest-of-the-gods office chair—was missing.
In its place was a rickety folding chair that looked like it belonged at a children's lemonade stand.
"Who took my chair?!" Mike yelled, his voice echoing across the cubicles.
Nobody answered. Heads ducked behind monitors. Karen from accounting actually slid under her desk like a possum avoiding a predator.
Mike narrowed his eyes. "Fine. I'll find it myself."
---
Mike's first suspect was Dave, the office supplies thief. Dave had a history of "borrowing" things and never returning them—staplers, highlighters, and once, an entire coffee machine.
Mike stormed over to Dave's cubicle.
"Dave! Did you take my chair?"
Dave looked up from his Sudoku puzzle, confused. "What? No. Why would I want your chair?"
"Because it's amazing," Mike snapped. "You're sitting on a chair that looks like it was rejected from a dentist's office."
Dave shrugged. "Don't blame me. Try asking IT. Those guys hoard everything."
---
Mike's next stop was the IT department, located in the darkest corner of the building. The IT guys had turned their area into a cave of monitors, LED lights, and empty energy drink cans.
"Hey!" Mike shouted, startling Phil, who was halfway through a bag of Cheetos. "Where's my chair?"
Phil blinked, orange dust coating his fingers. "What chair?"
"My office chair! The nice one!"
Phil raised an eyebrow. "Dude, we don't even get chairs with wheels. We're literally sitting on stolen cafeteria stools."
Mike looked around. Sure enough, the IT team was perched on wobbly stools that looked one sneeze away from collapse.
Phil gestured to a pile of Ethernet cables. "If you find an extra chair, grab one for me too."
---
Desperate, Mike decided to take his search to the next level: the office security footage.
He marched into the security room, where Stan, the guard, was watching something suspiciously similar to a soap opera.
"Stan," Mike said, "I need to check the tapes. Someone stole my chair."
Stan looked at him, unimpressed. "Your chair? Seriously? Last week, someone stole my lunch, and nobody cared."
"Stan, this is different. My chair is my sanctuary."
With a dramatic sigh, Stan rewound the footage. The grainy black-and-white video showed Mike's chair being wheeled out of his cubicle... by a figure wearing a hoodie and sunglasses.
"Who is that?" Mike asked.
Stan squinted. "Looks like... oh, that's Jerry."
"Jerry from HR?!"
"Yeah, he's been wheeling chairs all over the building lately. Says it's part of some 'ergonomic redistribution program.'"
---
Mike stormed into HR like a man on a mission. Jerry was sitting at his desk, looking smug in a chair that looked suspiciously familiar.
"Jerry!" Mike shouted. "That's my chair!"
Jerry adjusted the armrests. "Technically, it's company property, Mike."
"I don't care! Give it back!"
Jerry sighed dramatically. "Look, Mike, we're trying to promote a fair and equal workplace. You've had this premium chair for years. It's time to share the wealth."
Mike crossed his arms. "Oh, so I'm supposed to sit on a folding chair while you live like a king?"
Jerry smiled. "Exactly. It's called sacrifice."
Mike narrowed his eyes. "Fine. If you won't give it back, I'll take it back."
Jerry laughed. "You can try."
---
The office erupted into chaos.
Mike lunged for the chair, but Jerry rolled it backward with surprising agility.
"Catch me if you can!" Jerry yelled, zooming down the hallway like a man possessed.
Mike gave chase, knocking over a cart of printer paper and sending reams flying everywhere.
Jerry turned a corner, but Mike wasn't giving up. He grabbed a nearby office chair—the wobbly kind with one broken wheel—and used it like a skateboard, propelling himself forward with his feet.
"Stop stealing my chair!" Mike yelled.
"Never!" Jerry shouted back, laughing maniacally.
---
Their high-speed chase took them through the break room, where Karen from accounting screamed and dove behind the coffee machine.
It ended in the conference room, where Mr. Simmons was mid-presentation.
"And as you can see from this chart—WHAT IS GOING ON?!"
Jerry barreled into the room, slamming the chair into the table. Mike followed, panting and wielding a stapler like a weapon.
"Give it back, Jerry!"
"Never!"
The entire office stared as the two men wrestled over the chair. At one point, Jerry tried to use the reclining function as a defensive maneuver, but Mike countered by locking the wheels.
Finally, with one last tug, Mike wrenched the chair free.
"Victory!" he shouted, collapsing into it triumphantly.
Mr. Simmons rubbed his temples. "Mike. Jerry. My office. Now."
---
In the end, both men were sentenced to two weeks of mandatory teamwork training.
Mike didn't care. He had his chair back, and no one—no one—was taking it away again.
"Well," Jerry muttered during their first session, "I hope you and your precious chair are happy."
Mike grinned. "Oh, I am. And you can sit on that folding chair forever."
Moral of the story? Never mess with a man's office chair.