My boss, who's a bit younger than me, wanders around to see if I'm staying late. Specifically, she asks if she can "leave like a ninja."

I size her up, and then tell her that she doesn't have the skills to be a ninja. There's a guffaw from the peanut gallery.

She, in turn, tells a story about a time when she and a friend decided to be ninjas and spy on a mutual friend, despite wearing white sweaters. My head hits the desk at the mention of their outfits.

She leaves a few minutes later, and the security system beeps as she opens the door—as it does every time the door is opened. I comment to my cubicle-neighbor, See? She didn't leave like a ninja.