I'm avid "trash can basketball" player. And the only thing more irritating than completely missing the trash can is hitting it and having your trash rejected because the can is full. Late one Saturday, I was cleaning up the previous week's debris from my office and my desk, when my garbage can decided it had had enough.

I was faced with the dilemma of ceasing my cleaning or taking out my trash. Bored and possessing a master key, I located two 55-gallon trash bags and started around the office. I found each place where I knew there was a trash can or white-paper recycling can, and dutifully did my part to save the environment -- "White paper and office recyclables in one bag; trash in other."

After only a few doors, I noted that there didn't seem to be any pattern to the amount of trash I was collecting from each office. Even though all the trash is removed on Mondays, it looked as some people had been on vacation all week. (I skipped the office of the person who actually was on vacation.)

Every trash can was different. Although I didn't root through them, I got a very good idea of what was in them as I casually spilled their contents into the trash bags. As I tipped, I made a quick guess at the job descriptions of the office occupants.

The programming types had a can full of Snickers wrappers and soda cans. Apparently they are too lazy (laziness is a critical ingredient to good programming) to put the soda can in the kitchen's aluminum recycling can, and survive the long hours on Snickers candy bars because that's all they can afford on their salary.
job description: geek

The designers threw out a meager and equal amount of white paper (mostly "oops" print-outs) and marketing freebies (usually "Please buy/resell/use/evangelize our stuff" samples). I suppose the majority of their trash is in the electronic "bit bucket."
job description: insufficient data to determine with accuracy

The graphic artists threw away Wendy's and Burger King take-out bags, along with a few white paper scraps from doing double-duty answering the phone.
job description: starving artists

The accounts payable/receivable trash can had apparently overflowed sometime on Wednesday, judging by how far out from under the desk the rubbish heap had spilled. The avalanche seemed to have been precipitated by the last-minute arrival of payments and their envelopes. The white-paper can contained what looked like an entire "oops" billing run. There was a 2-foot stack of catalogues next to the door that might have been trash. I wasn't sure, so I left them lie (as had the cleaning crew for the last millennium, I supposed).
job description: over-worked, and without a clear job description

The trash can in the reception area contain two leaves from our elephant-ear plant. Maybe it wants more water -- or perhaps a pay raise, like everyone else. ("More Miracle Grow or the secretary gets it...")
job description: This area isn't occupied by a productive worker. (Just kidding! We use e-mail for messages.)

Since the machine room is always locked, we put the trash in a small cubicle nearby. It included an inordinate number of six-inch pieces of wire ("We've cut it off three times and it's still too short."), about a cubic mile of Styrofoam packing peanuts, and a few flattened cardboard boxes.
job description: Wire-head(s).

So what's in your trash can?