It was MY fuckin’ lunch!!!

How can you throw someone’s fuckin’ food away???!!!

I work in large building. However, there are not that many people in the building at any given time. Basically, it is easy to tell whom everyone is and what, if anything, they brought for lunch. People are easy to spot by the small bag they carry in when walking into work. Simple enough.

Apparently, it’s a real complex issue.

I’m relatively small in size compared to those that work in this building. Therefore, it is quick to assume that I do not eat much. And the assumption is a good one.

I bring in the same food to eat every day: yogurt, soymilk, protein powder, a fruit, and either instant oatmeal, a multi-grain English muffin, or a snack bar. Pretty much everyone knows what I eat and what I bring in to eat.

For a while I was putting my food in the fridge upstairs. Now, it’s an industrial size, Sub-zero fridge. Nothing household about it. So, when there’s some food, randomly tucked in the back corner, of one of the drawers, you would think that you would have to go out of your way to throw something like that away. And yes, it has happened. Numerous times.

Then I found a little fridge downstairs tucked away in the corner for the girls that work in that office. I got permission to stash my food (yet again, in a very small and compact bag) there. They never had a problem with it. I’ve even forgot some food for a few days and it was there when I went back to it. Awesome. This was my new food home.

Or so I thought.

Then, one of the guys started using that fridge to house his monstrous container of wings. And they stunk so badly. Okay, not a big deal, we’ve got room for it.

So, this morning, mind you it’s the third consecutive day of putting stuff in the fridge, I see a very large, fat guy down stairs eating a yogurt that oddly enough looks just like mine. I didn’t say anything – hell, maybe he was now into the fat free gig, who am I to question it?

A few hours later, I decide to eat the English muffin that I brought in that’s hanging in the fridge with the rest of my food. Then I see my bag in the garbage. But, oddly enough, my yogurt is gone and so is my soymilk (who the fuck else likes soy milk in the place, I’d like to know). I am so fuckin’ pissed!!!! Where the FUCK does he get off, I’d like to know. He never so much as used that fridge for anything before. And now all-of-a-sudden it’s his. I stormed upstairs stewing about what I would do:

1) I could get a nice size fridge and put it in my bunk. Why not? It’s only fair that I get the same love as everyone else, even if I have to make my own.

2) I could go down there and just annihilate the man by calling him every-fuckin’-word that I could possibly conjure up at the moment.

3) I could ignore the whole fuckin’ thing and see what happens. I mean, really, what else could go wrong from here?

I have elected to do # 3. And my poor morale for this place has just taken a new rooting. I now have more ammo than I know what to do with. Of course I did document this, as I am convinced it was done on purpose, that is, with intent.

I do not undermine these men that I work with; every gesture they make, every statement they make, anything they do is done for a reason. They are a brutal bunch and just too goddamned annoying. I sit in my cube all day and just wait for the 5 o’clock buzzer. Thank God it’s Friday.