First, I must start with the tragic news that I can no longer watch this season of Survivor. I was SO hoping this would be the last time Coach would besmirch my television screen, but it was not meant to be. Since I refuse to allow one of my greatest escapes - reality TV* - to add to my already impressive level of angst**, here is where Survivor Toncantins and I must part ways.
I’m percolating a couple of reflective infertility posts, but not really ready to go there yet. In the meantime, since I haven’t treated (tortured?) you with work kvetching lately, I thought I’d bring you a story of how I spent my day today. Tracking down a lunch thief. That’s right, my friends. It appears my company - let’s call it Quant Guys, Inc - has a resident lunch looter.
At about 1:30 today, as I’m getting carpal tunnel syndrome rearranging data in yet another meaningless spreadsheet made necessary by the fact that our HR systems don’t talk to our financial systems, a very indignant VP appears in my office. Turns out that there has been a rash of lunches on the lam and he wants to know WHAT AM I GOING TO DO ABOUT IT? For this, I went to business school? Honest to Pete, these people are crazy. But I can tell you must be on the edge of your seat with suspense. What did she do about it, you’re asking yourself. (What’s that? Oh…you’re not? In fact, you’re clicking on to the next blog in your reader? OK, I’ll wrap it up.). Being all about the diplomatic solution, we are going to assume for now it was just a big mix-up and remind people that lunch bags and various frozen entrees - much like your luggage at the airport - tends to look alike and please double check that it is, in fact, yours. If that doesn’t work…exploding decoy lunch bags.
* That’s right my friends - I’m a reality TV junkie. I have even (she says hanging her head) been known to read reality TV recaps because viewing it just isn’t enough. I do have standards, though. I won’t watch anything built on the premise of being mean - or being an Octomom, should that come to pass. (Speaking of which, have you heard of the new Fox reality show where apparently employees vote Survivor style on who is going to be laid off? What a horrible horrible concept.) Anything else, especially if they’re cooking, baking, sewing, or strutting down a runway ( especially strutting), is fair game.
** Growing up I was so adept at teen-age angst that I have refined it to a whole new level of pushing-40 angst.