Now, I know not everyone is lucky enough to have a break room or kitchen at their job. If you do, you know how absurd they can be. There is a strange phenomenon that occurs between these walls.
In the refrigerator their will be food in there for over a year, I don’t mean food that rots (although, those can end up being in there for over 2 weeks). I’m talking about salad dressing and other shit. Someone brings something in for lunch and decides to order out that day and forgets about it. The same person will see it daily, but not realize it is their own. Meanwhile, you have to navigate your shit around someone else’s 9 month old hot pocket. Everyone is scared to death to throw it out too, so they don’t step on anyone’s toes.
No lie, their was a half dranken can of coke on the table in my office’s break room for a week. NO ONE would throw it out, because they weren’t sure the person was done with it. God forbid if it was your bosses! The person who drank half of it didn’t realize they were staring at it 15 times a day.
What the fuck?
I definitely can understand that. It always astounds me that people actually do those things. Everything I ever bring to our office leaves with me that day, so I guess it’s hard for me to relate. Is it really that hard to remember what belongs to you?
At the secret lair of the Grassy Knoll Institute, we have a rule for the communal fridge. Every Friday, it gets completely cleaned out and anything inside, barring condiments, (Ketchup, mustard, butter) is unceremoniously tossed out. It’s a mad rush at 4pm Friday as fellow rocket scientists gather their pathetic almost week old leftovers.
[...] Yup, I work in a pretty sweet place. [...]