5/13/2009
Property Rights Over William Perry? No...the Other Fridge.
I love the office politics that swirl around shared items. The most entertaining of these is unequivocally the office fridge. Fridge drama seems like a universal theme in offices (Proof). Oh, tiny little icebox, what a joy you are!
A little background for those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of dealing with a common office fridge…
When an office fridge is introduced to a workplace, people gleefully add items to the shelves. It’s a bountiful menagerie of frozen dinners, sodas, fruit, yogurt, and last night’s something or other.
Then…someone eats a yogurt. It’s tasty. It’s blueberry with granola. But it wasn’t their yogurt.
*gasp!*
Let the games begin. Five minutes later in my in-box…
To: All
Subject: Beware! You are not amongst friends!
Dear Co-workers:
It has been brought to my attention that my blueberry yogurt with granola has been usurped. Maybe it was an honest mistake. ….but then again…maybe it wasn’t. Colleagues, it is not my intention to incite panic, but the usurper could be back. Please run (don’t walk!) to the refrigerator and clearly mark all of your items with your name.
If you have any questions, please contact the local hospital. My blood sugar has dropped from my lack of yogurt and I can no longer function properly to finish out the day.
I hope you’re happy now (and full of my blueberry goodness), usurper.
Sincerely,
D. Rama
Weeks go by and no additional yogurt larceny occurs. But…a new phenomenon starts to brew…
My inbox…
To: All
Subject: I Ain’t Yo Mama
Dear Co-workers:
The fridge is freakin’ nasty. I know you don’t live like that at home. Someone’s block of cheese has given birth to a new block of cheese, and the apple juice has fermented into a potent alcoholic cider.
I’ll take care of the cider…but I am not yo mama. Please remove all of your gross moldy items by Thursday at noon…or else!
Burn in Hell,
Ima Whoopsomebodysass
There’s a general sense of apathy regarding this request.
Or else what? You’ll throw out my moldy food for me?
Then around Thursday at 11:45 AM, people begin to realize that they had previously avoided any further food usurping by leaving their moniker on numerous items!
The jig is up!
Time to stealthily slither over to the fridge…find your piece of mold…break out the Sharpie …and scribble out your name.
Not that I’ve ever done that.
And yet some people still think that Communism is a great idea. Humph.
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A little background for those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of dealing with a common office fridge…
When an office fridge is introduced to a workplace, people gleefully add items to the shelves. It’s a bountiful menagerie of frozen dinners, sodas, fruit, yogurt, and last night’s something or other.
Then…someone eats a yogurt. It’s tasty. It’s blueberry with granola. But it wasn’t their yogurt.
*gasp!*
Let the games begin. Five minutes later in my in-box…
To: All
Subject: Beware! You are not amongst friends!
Dear Co-workers:
It has been brought to my attention that my blueberry yogurt with granola has been usurped. Maybe it was an honest mistake. ….but then again…maybe it wasn’t. Colleagues, it is not my intention to incite panic, but the usurper could be back. Please run (don’t walk!) to the refrigerator and clearly mark all of your items with your name.
If you have any questions, please contact the local hospital. My blood sugar has dropped from my lack of yogurt and I can no longer function properly to finish out the day.
I hope you’re happy now (and full of my blueberry goodness), usurper.
Sincerely,
D. Rama
Weeks go by and no additional yogurt larceny occurs. But…a new phenomenon starts to brew…
My inbox…
To: All
Subject: I Ain’t Yo Mama
Dear Co-workers:
The fridge is freakin’ nasty. I know you don’t live like that at home. Someone’s block of cheese has given birth to a new block of cheese, and the apple juice has fermented into a potent alcoholic cider.
I’ll take care of the cider…but I am not yo mama. Please remove all of your gross moldy items by Thursday at noon…or else!
Burn in Hell,
Ima Whoopsomebodysass
There’s a general sense of apathy regarding this request.
Or else what? You’ll throw out my moldy food for me?
Then around Thursday at 11:45 AM, people begin to realize that they had previously avoided any further food usurping by leaving their moniker on numerous items!
The jig is up!
Time to stealthily slither over to the fridge…find your piece of mold…break out the Sharpie …and scribble out your name.
Not that I’ve ever done that.
And yet some people still think that Communism is a great idea. Humph.
