The Power of Ru

if I have to wear a tin foil hat, this is the one I'm wearing

We lost our deskside garbage collection at work last winter (see “Attitude Adjustment”). I went into the office one morning and my garbage can was gone. So were everyone else’s—except for a single rogue specimen. Our division does a lot of bulk mailing and there is some rubbish that won’t fit in a Starbucks cup, so our office manager cleverly ensured that one can was spared for the file room.

A few weeks later, I noticed that the potato chip bag I had dropped into it was still present, along with some other flotsam accrued during the passage of time. Hm, I thought, somebody should dump that into the kitchen bin. I figured on doing it myself—just not at that instant—but when I went back a couple of hours later, it was already done.

I flagged my administrative colleague. “I thought the janitors weren’t collecting the garbage anymore, but the can in the file room is empty.”

“They’re not,” she replied. “I emptied it a couple of hours ago.”

Fast forward a few weeks into 2017. I’m the owner/operator of the HQ snackin’ station, but occasionally other folks will bring in treats that require more than the two bowls containing my offerings. The third bowl will often sit long after its contents are gone, until someone—usually me—takes it away.

I think it was cinnamon hearts pre-Valentine’s Day. A mysterious benefactor filled a bowl with them, and the level almost immediately began to drop as word spread around the floor. It seems that everyone loves cinnamon hearts; however, just like the final slug from the milk carton, a dozen malformed candies lingered in the bottom of the bowl for over a week before I thought in passing, Hm. Somebody should dump them and put away the bowl. I figured on doing it myself—just not at that instant—but when I went back a couple of hours later, it was already done.

I went to our office manager. “That’s weird,” I said. “I just went to dump the last of the hearts and put away the bowl, but someone beat me to it.”

“That was me,” she said. “I did it a couple of hours ago.”

I stared at her. Then I told her the garbage can story. Then I said, “Whoa, how powerful am I if I can manipulate people on the strength of a single thought?”

She laughed, of course—she laughs at me a lot—but I was semi-serious. I realize that a third, and conscious, attempt should probably be made to confirm any suspicions, but I’m reluctant to go there. I mean, what if?