Here where I work, it isn't too dissimilar from the Seinfeld episode where Elaine flips out on her co-workers for celebrating every little thing (new baby, birthday, returning from a sick day, positive eval, etc.) with cake. We do cake here a lot. At least three times a week, you can find remnants of birthday cakes, cupcakes, and donuts in one of the two main kitchens.
In my heyday, it wasn't uncommon for me to scoop up a piece of cake, sometimes even going back for seconds when the sugar rush wore off. It was gross and I always felt shitty about it.
We also have two vending machines full of absolute garbage two doors away from my office in the mail room. I've asked repeatedly for the vending company to add some healthy choices, but our ideas of healthy are vastly different. Jerky means Slim Jims, and nuts mean honey roasted peanuts or Paydays. Don't get me started on the Snackwells, animal crackers, and fat free gummy candy.
I was standing in the mail room distributing some things when out of the corner of my eye, I saw them.
I stood, paralyzed by the mailboxes, afraid of moving one step closer to the vending machine. I started rationalizing about why I could have them. I mean, I could always get back on track tomorrow. No big deal. Also, they are only $1. One measly dollar for all of those cookies? Come on. I knew I had a bundle of singles in my purse after someone wanted a large bill exchanged. The money was just in my office. I could go get it, and buy the cookies, and it would be fine. Just fine...
Like something you'd see in a movie, a co-worker walked into the room hopefully unaware of my struggle, stepped up to the vending machine, fed it a dollar, and bought the freaking cookies. It was the last package.
Part of me wanted to tackle him and take them from him, and the other part of me wanted to cry. So I went to the bathroom and had a few snivels, then stepped back out to resume my day.
Fuck you, sugar. I win.
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