The forces of Light, after a passive-aggressive face off and a sullen and narrow defeat mere months ago, have regrouped for another skirmish in the endless struggle over control of the sacred location of provisions, the office refrigerator.
Because of the inordinately cold (and zealously policed) temperature settings on said fridge, there will be a mandated defrost to allow carrots and other vegetables to reside without freezing into an inpenetrable mass that must be whacked on a table before they may be consumed individually, as nature meant.
Send all your good thoughts to our brave, if quixote, warrior of the people who will battle on the behalf of sensible fridge users everywhere. Will he be able to forestall the senseless mid-week defrosting? Will he prevail in preventing perfectly fine lunches from being throw away for no good reason? The odds are not in his favor, but we wish him godspeed.
UPDATE: The battle has been delayed, in favor of another sick day. And you thought that the forces of evil never call in sick.
2 comments:
why do all offices have insane fridge policies? someone gave our receptionist the power to clean out our office fridges (we have 3), and her method consists of throwing out everything in them. and i mean literally everything. she gives 30 minutes notice, and then ity's like a reenactment of the russian army pulling back from the eastern front.
previous to her iron-fisted reign over our cold storage, our office manager would make interns do it, which inevitably led to me losing a perfectly good bottle of soymilk (and, much worse, led to the ruination of a bottle of 98 dom, foolishly stored there by one of our directors).
Hah! Somehow this universality takes the bitter sting out of it.
You've got the minion power thing, of course. And in our case, the ocd thing thrown in, ergo person x doesn't use the fridge but is compelled to obsessively police it for feared potential spoilage and the possibility that someone might might have turned up the notch from subzero to merely arctic. And there's always an ostentatious and passive-aggressive display of nosing through and "wondering" loudly whose is the soyburger, for instance, when we all (ten of us) know who the goddamned vegetarian is and who goes to the Greek grill up the street.
Of course, the scars from injustices past linger. Bitter I am about being forced to pitch a salad because the fridge had to be unplugged before lunch. And years later, my friend K is still angry about her juice box (!!) getting pitched. As she repeats, you don't throw away a pregnant woman's juice box.
But the dom spoilage seems like a firing offense.
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