My Editorial Dead Line

I'm a little hurt today. If I were the sort of guy to take offense, I'd be really hurt, but, nonetheless there is some emotional pain going on. Our talented, and usually kind-hearted, assistant editor, Jennifer Mead, sent me a news clipping, and attached to it a note which read, "This reminded me of you."
Ah, I thought, something about a good and decent man, no doubt. Or perhaps, a story about a really talented writer. Nope. Here's the headline: "Worker Dead at Desk for Five Days." Now, you tell me. Would you feel flattered if a headline like that reminded someone of you?
Hey, I know I'm not the most effervescent guy around the office. But, I thought she was a little out of line. After I got my crying under control, I asked her about it. She explained that it was not the dead part that made her think of me. So, here's the rest of the story:
"BOSSES of a publishing firm are trying to work out why no-one noticed that one of their employees had been sitting dead at his desk for FIVE DAYS before anyone asked if he was feeling okay.
George Turklebaum, 51, who had been employed as a proof-reader at a New York firm for 30 years, had a heart attack in the open-plan office he shared with 23 other workers.
He quietly passed away on Monday, but nobody noticed until Saturday morning when an office cleaner asked why he was still working during the weekend.
His boss Elliot Wachiaski said: 'George was always the first guy in each morning and the last to leave at night - so no-one found it unusual that he was in the same position all that time and didn't say anything.
'He was always absorbed in his work and kept much to himself.'
A post mortem examination revealed that he had been dead for five days after suffering a coronary. Ironically, George was proof-reading manuscripts of medical textbooks when he died." (By the way, I'm told this is an urban legend. I thought Smokey Robinson was an urban legend, so I'm a little confused.)

Jennifer swears that she just meant that I am always at my desk when she gets in each morning. Yeah, sure.
It has gotten me to thinking that maybe I should do something to show everyone here that I'm still alive. So, here's what I've come up with. I have a harmonica strapped to a neck brace. It's positioned right at my mouth, and every few minutes I breathe into it, creating a lovely melody that virtually sings out, "Hey everyone, Steve is still breathing."
Everyone here knows that if they don't hear the harmonica every five minutes or so, to come looking.
Right now, as I type, I'm doing a rather jazzy version of Oh Suzanna. It's the only song I can play. I am working on "She'll be Coming Round the Mountain." So, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to my harmonica. Have a nice day.