I said yesterday that I probably wouldn’t write today. I had to get off work, go grocery shopping, take a shower, and get ready – ie, consume massive quantities of caffeine – for the show tonight. I really wasn’t planning to write, but man, did I have one king hell of a day. I managed the grocery shopping but will probably not take a shower. It’s fine. I don’t smell yet and I own dry shampoo, and Graham’s working tonight so it’s not like I have to shave my legs if you catch my drift.
Now all I have to do is stay awake and not get drunk, which is harder than it should be. What a day. What a freaking day. If you think that working for a multi-national Fortune 200 corporation at all guarantees niceties such as working computer systems, competent co-workers, or pens that you don’t have to supply yourself, think again. Maybe other companies do that, but not mine. Every day is another Chernobyl of Things That Shouldn’t Happen Ever. The only good thing about today was that we were so busy with e-mails (most resulting from the oft-broken system that’s supposed to advise them of completed requests), I was pulled off the phones to handle them and could therefore catch up on some podcasts. Two recent episodes of What The Fuck with Marc Maron mollified me a bit after someone stole my fucking yogurt.
Yeah. Someone stole my fucking yogurt.
Look, I’m aware of what a white girl problem this is, okay? And no, it was not the kind of yogurt that keeps a lady in good digestive health (everyone, you don’t need Activia to poop on the regular, just drink a shitload of coffee like a real adult). I hardly ever even eat yogurt, but Schnuck’s had the Oikos Greek fruit-at-the-bottom kind on sale and it’s really good, and I thought that maybe instead of some stale trail mix or a vending machine Baby Ruth like I usually eat around 2pm, I’d have a little bit of semi-healthy protein waiting for me in the breakroom fridge. When I went to get it, it was gone, not only from the shelf where I’d left it (people in my office tend to play Tetris with the fridge for no discernible reason), but from the entire refrigerator.
Forgive the cheap phrase, but seriously, who does that? Who steals another person’s food? I understand the consternation of forgetting one’s lunch, but there’s a vending machine just steps away (as well as other machines on other floors in case you find ours wanting in selection) and a mini-cafeteria on the first floor. It’s not like anyone is in danger of starving. Money shouldn’t be an issue, either. With the exception of a few new hires who are fresh out of college yet still dress better than me, everyone on my floor makes a reasonable amount of money. Trust me. I used to drive a 1997 Lumina and it was by far the shittiest car in the lot. Based on what everyone else drives, I know these people can afford food. Besides, when I came back to St. Louis, I had zero money and still didn’t steal from my co-workers. I ate a lot of broccoli and brown rice and held in some extremely painful farts every day after lunch, but I never stole anyone else’s food, no matter how much more appetizing it looked. I was tempted at times, but ever since childhood, I have known that stealing is a lousy thing to do and so I have never done it. Really. Not once can I remember stealing anything. I have been hungry and crippled with gas, and still no stealing.
It’s not the yogurt that bothers me the most. I mean, I was super bummed at the time because I was looking forward to it (it’s really, really good!), but now my concern is that I work with some shady asshole who takes food from other people. I want to find out who did it, but I won’t confront them right away. I’ll wait until I can find a coupon for the same yogurt at the same time it goes on sale, and I’ll go on double coupon day so I can get an extreme discount on like 20 of them, and then I’ll go over to their desk and just hurl yogurt after yogurt at them and say “HERE! YOU LIKE YOGURT SO MUCH YOU STEAL IT?! HAVE ALL THE YOGURT IN THE OFFICE!”
And then I’ll get fired but maybe also get a check for mental incompetence, and then I won’t have to work anymore.