The Last Drawer in the Office

When her company moved buildings, Jo was responsible for emptying the old office. Every desk had been cleared except one drawer containing birthday candles, a broken stapler and a stack of handwritten thank-you notes. None mentioned major achievements. People had thanked colleagues for covering a shift, explaining a form or bringing soup during an especially difficult week at work.

Jo had been asked to save documents of historical value for the company archive. She had already packed awards and photographs of directors shaking hands. The notes seemed too personal to file and too revealing to throw into general recycling. She sat on the floor, reading a few before feeling she had accidentally entered conversations not intended for her.

One was addressed to a receptionist whose name had been misspelled in every official staff directory. Jo remembered him correcting it twice before giving up. She found his current contact details and asked whether he wanted the note. He did, but sounded surprised that anybody had kept it. He also asked her to use the correct spelling on the envelope.

Jo sent messages to the other people she could identify and securely disposed of the remaining private notes. She kept no copies for the archive. Later, her manager asked whether she had found anything valuable in the final drawer. Jo said yes, but most of it belonged to individuals rather than the company. She added the receptionist's corrected name to the old staff list before closing the archive box.