Wednesday, August 22, 2012
The working life: 13 miles from my fridge and yet there is food all over
Now I remember how people get through the working day.
That's all that happens here all day long. The guy behind me crunches on apples. Very crisp apples. Good thing he's such a nice guy or there would be problems.
I hear the sound of Pringles from two cubicles over. Other crackling turns out to be candied ginger, which my co-worker generously passes around. She also has the office supply of very dark chocolate.
I myself have filled my top drawer with emergency food: a jar of peanut butter, a ziplock bag of almonds, three granola bars that are sweeter than candy bars, and two bars of 72% chocolate that my friend Bonnie left on our pillows this weekend when SH and I went to her lake house.
The two very cool women who work three cubicle aisles away are always eating something good. I met them the day I heard the sound of M&Ms being poured into a bowl. Of course I had to investigate: who pours M&Ms in a public space if she doesn't want to use them as bait? I casually walked over, as casually as one can when 1. she is wearing high heels for the first time in years and 2. she is desperately drawn to the prospect of M&Ms.
I introduced myself. I looked around, trying to be discreet, but it's hard to be discreet when you aren't wearing your glasses and are spying on what someone has on her desk.
So I just said it: "Did I just hear the sound of M&Ms being poured into a bowl?"
The two cool women looked at each other in confusion.
"I thought I heard the sound of M&Ms hitting the bottom of a bowl. You know that sound."
Everyone knows the sound. Don't they?
They looked at each other again, only this time they laughed.
"That was Cheerios!"
I was crushed and humiliated. My disappointment far outweighed my humiliation. I turned and walked away, my dreams of chocolate shattered. (This was before I had Bonnie's chocolate.)
Two days later, there were leftovers in the break room - leftovers of Chex mix with M&Ms. I filled a bowl with it and took it back to my desk. On the way, I stopped to offer some to the two cool women.
They shook their heads. "We don't like chocolate," they admitted. I was sad because I knew that meant they would never have chocolate bait at their desks, but happy because it meant I didn't have to share after all.