My company refridgerator has a sign on the front that says that all unlabeled food will be discarded at 3pm every Friday. Until yesterday, I was unsure as to whether that was actually true, or if it was an idle threat. I am no longer uncertain.
I had Thai for lunch on both Thursday and Friday this week, and had stored my leftovers in the refridgerator. I had every intention of taking them home and making them into a delicious Saturday breakfast, but when I left work at 6:15 yesterday evening, I forgot to take them with me. I made it about halfway home before realizing my oversight, and, being a starving pauper, I turned around and fought through rush-hour traffic for what amounts to roughly $4 worth of Thai food. I even contemplated taking the Greenway back to work, until I realized that I would probably pay more in tolls than the total value of my leftovers.
So I got back to work, sprinted into the building, and threw the refridgerator door open, only to discover that MY LEFTOVERS WERE GONE. I was devastated.
At this point, a normal person would have shrugged, moved past the grief, and gone home. But no, that’s not what I did. Instead, I went and checked the kitchen trash cans for my food. Had the leftovers been in there, nestled in their cute little styrofoam containers, I would have fished them out and taken them home. I think I’m embarrassed to even write that sentence. My defeat was complete, however, because the cans were empty.
I must seek revenge on the cleaning staff. I’m thinking that I’ll fill the refridgerator with parakeets next Friday.