Earlier today, I thought I’d surprise my husband at his office with his favourite sandwich from the local deli. Upon arrival, I was greeted by two of his warehouse chaps—we’ll call them Henry and Lenny. They’ve both worked for my husband for around ten years, and we’ve had them over for plenty of dinners, so when they mentioned that my husband was out covering for one of his sales reps, I quickly caught on that they were hinting we could put his vacant office to… alternative use.

After quite the cheeky session with both of them having their go, we all got ourselves sorted and dressed. They’d tossed their used condoms into the bin, and I decided to nip outside to check some emails and get a bit of fresh air while waiting for my husband, who was due back any moment.

When I returned to his office to use the computer, I spotted his janitor, an older gentleman named Franky, just leaving with the rubbish bin. As he emptied it, to my surprise, only two envelopes fell out—no sign of the condoms. Feeling a bit puzzled, I gave him a polite nod and slipped past to use the computer.

Then I noticed something on my husband’s keyboard: both of Henry and Lenny’s used condoms, with a little sticky note beneath that read, “Tell her it’s my turn.”