Monkey Time

Monkey Time

Noel Laflin

8-7-18

I just heard the clock in the spare room remind me that it was nine o’clock – or what some of us at work used to refer to as monkey time.

I know the time as the noise coming from this old clock sounds just like an excited chimp spotting Tarzan on his way home with an armload of bananas – thus, monkey time; with apologies of course for confusing the sound of chimps with monkeys. But you know what I mean.

I decided to take a picture just so you have a better understanding of what I’m talking about.

Now, years ago when I still had an honest job and a cubicle to prove it, this clock was always a hit. Lion time meant lunch. Tiger time meant the afternoon was getting along. A howling wolf meant end of day – generally. But if some of us were hearing the roar of an elephant, well that meant that we’d either come in early or were working late. The animals made no distinction between A.M. or P.M.

The cries of the aforementioned critters are pretty good. Others, like the polar bear, hippo, or rhinoceros are weak and can confuse, as once happened when some women walked past our sales room and took offence at the rhino’s announcement of one o’clock. They mistakenly thought that it was one of the three new fellows making piggy/oink-oink noises as they walked by. Who knew rhinos and pigs sounded so much alike?  Boy, that took some untangling as the guys were innocent of course. And although I was not present for the initial confusion, tears, accusations, and defense, I quickly deduced, upon hearing the story, that it was my animal clock that caused the ruckus. Demonstrating the rhino’s pitiful oink-oink to those involved – including H.R. - the case was quickly solved, resolved, and dismissed. But, hell, three innocent new hires nearly lost their very recent jobs due to the damn rhinoceros. I turned the volume down after things were cleared up and told the rhino to grow some balls.

Now, the clock was originally a birthday gift to Jay Stern, a beloved colleague, mentor, and friend. He adored animals more than people, and kept quite a tiny menagerie scattered about his office.

But he died quite suddenly two years later. So before folks could clean out his office, I stole the clock back, along with a small wooden elephant that sat upon his desk. Years later I placed that small elephant on his gravestone. It mingled with the other miniature tokens left there by his family.

The clock then moved with me wherever I was reassigned space over the next decade.

And although I gave away most of the treasures scattered about my office playroom when I retired from the job – including three juggling balls, a ‘Teach Yourself to Juggle' instruction book, two singing/dancing Obama dolls, a vast Altoid tin collection (there were over 200 tins), a six-foot-tall pirate skeleton, and a couple of Betty Boop snow globes, I kept the clock.

It wasn’t the damn rhino that got me. It was just time.