As a careful reader of this blog might
surmise, I changed jobs a few months back. I went from “Tiny
Company Overly Dependent On One Contract” to “Colossal Government
Contractor”. The whys and mechanics of that move are the subject
for another blog entry which, given enough time and wherewithal I
might write. On to the important focus of today’s epic tome, The
Corporate Fridge.
The transition has been an enlightening
experience. On one hand, the anonymity of being another mere cubicle
dweller in this vast enterprise has its advantages. I rarely see my
boss and my work is mostly misunderstood by my peers, so there is
little chance for conflict. In fact, I suspect that I can go days
without having to speak to anyone directly. That makes for a very low
pressure work environment.
That being said, there are certainly
disadvantages to my new haunts. Let me set the stage for my latest
encounter. First, since I labor in relatively anonymity, I can
determine my own hours. Being a guy that actually enjoys taking full
advantage of a lovely (and sometimes not so lovely) day, I have
chosen to work very early hours, leaving my afternoons free for
outdoor fun. What goes hand in hand with that kind of lifestyle is
eating some disgustingly healthy (but tasty) food. I of course have
documented my paleo obsession elsewhere on this blog, so I will leave
it up to you to explore the tags and find out more about that.
Suffice it to say I had (as I try to do
most days) brought my lunch. I know what you are thinking. “But
Mike, since you work for a Colossal Government Contractor surely they
have a cafeteria where you can buy a healthy meal?” I must admit
that they do, and they have a lovely salad bar where I can assemble a
very paleo friendly salad. The down side of that is Colossal
Government Contractor has done the smart thing and contracted out
their cafeteria to Small Company Leeching Off Of Colossal Government
Contractor. This was a very good deal for Colossal Government
Contractor and Small Company Leeching Off Of Colossal Government
Contractor. The fact that a reasonable salad, self-assembled,
containing perhaps two dollars of rough ingredients (if that) cost a
mere $9 dollars makes it a win-win for all concerned… as long as
you’re not the one paying for it.
So yes, I packed my lunch. What was for
lunch today? Here’s the list..
First we have Asian Chopped Salad. The
whole chopped salad thing is one I am trying to decide if I like. I
have had the Southwest Chopped Salad, and I like the crunch, even
though the size of the green stuff in the salad is more reminiscent
of coleslaw than a real salad. In fact, I think most of the stuff in
the salad is cabbage, giving the ‘chopped salad’ a close kinship
to coleslaw, but significantly different from what I, as a
southerner, recognize as such.
Let me explain. Back in the days of my
misspent youth I worked in a restaurant that specialized in fried
fish. I say specialize as if there were no other restaurants in the
mid-south that made fried fish dinners. To the contrary, I would
wager at the time there were not any restaurants in the tri-state
area that served unfried fish, sushi not yet being a thing in the
south at that time. The coleslaw there was made in the southern way.
What did that mean? We threw cabbage and carrots into a big chopping
mixer, and then poured in salad dressing and two heaping cans of
sugar. In the south, man does not live by fried stuff and sweet tea
alone. It’s amazing the whole southern US did not tip over with the
massively obese people this kind of food produced. It’s probably
because the massively obese people of the north eating their fried
cod and pizza provided balanced. Thank God we all eat better now or
the US would be facing a scary heath care crisis. What? Oh… never
mind…
Next I had my snacks. I eat pretty much
all day, so it is important that I am oversupplied with snacks. These
consist mostly of fruits of various types. I had apples left in my
desk from yesterday, so today’s haul consisted only of a small bag
of strawberries and a smallish armored plastic container of rough cut
pineapple. I note armored as there is really no other way to
describe it. It looks deceptively simple to open. There is a plastic
strip running along the top edge, with tiny words I can only assume
say “tear me off to eat the delicious stuff inside. It’s so easy
any idiot could do it. What are you, an idiot?” I imagine it says
this as I do not have a scanning electron microscope to verify what
is written there. Somewhere in China there is probably a sweatshop of
tiny people with tiny little magic plastic writing pens scripting
curses to fat Americans in a language they don’t understand. This
is my limited worldview.
The clever manufacturer has also
applied a strip of ‘never-open’ glue to the rim of the lid of the
container. This is in case the pineapple contents decided to rebel
against their incarceration, remove the plastic strip using their
Jedi pineapple mind powers, and burst forth on the world as berserk
blood hungry chucks of pineapple goodness. The alternative to
breaching the armored top is to pull out my wicked pocket knife and
start hacking away. I have found that when I do this in the break
room the sight of a stabbing wicked pocket knife seems to make my
coworkers nervous. It probably doesn’t help that I am grunting
(screaming really) “Die you bastard pineapple!” under my breath
(at the top of my lungs). Thus, I confine my armored pineapple
container hacking to the relative privacy of my cubicle. While the
container ensure the pineapple can’t escape, is does nothing to
ensure that the fruit inside will not quickly rot if left at room
temperature. For it and my fancy chopped salad, refrigeration is
required.
You may recall that I noted at the top
of this post that I work flex hours, arriving at my cubicle before
the crack of dawn. At that hour, my entire floor is like a scene from
a video game where everyone has turned into Nazi zombies and the vast
caverns of hauntingly empty offices are inhabited by gibbering brain
matter eating horrors. You can literally hear the stainless steel
rats not moving. Being a logical person, you would assume that since
I am literally the first (living) person on the floor in the morning
I would have a completely empty fridge at my disposal. After all,
these fridges are not for families, but for solitary workers who
bring their lunch, consume it at the appropriate time, and then no
longer require refrigerant services. Also consider that due to the
size of my cubicle wonderland, there are two very large fridges in
our break room. You would of course be wrong. Here’s what I found:
I can only assume that the containers
and bags there have left over brain matter from the gibbering Nazi
zombies. It is amazingly precognizant of them to store their goods in
this matter. In the future, I believe I will have to be on guard and
have my wicked pocket knife at the ready when I enter their domain.
At least as long as I continue to have an edible brain.
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