Diet by Default

             

                                                     
So today, they were having a going away party for a beloved member of the staff who is starting a new adventure. Good for her. I only met her a couple of times, but she was pleasant enough, so I decided to support her by having a piece of her cake.


Well, I had a load of work to do on my desk. Literally, my cubicle looked like Chicago skyscrapers of paper. About this time, I usually get attacked with a sweet-tooth and can’t get to the vending machine fast enough, so this good-bye cake was perfect.

I walked over to crowd of people hovering around the guest of honor and her massive cake. She was slowly opening presents and reminiscing about the good times and how excited she was about moving on to a new adventure. I thought it was sweet, however , I really wanted a piece of cake, and I could feel the tug of waiting emails and impatient clients needing their Friday answers to whatever deadline they had and yada yada.

I stood there in the background, no one noticing me, as I literally sit in my tiny corner of the world, an occasional gust of wind and a tumble week passing by. I liked the quiet, but for as much work as I do, you would think they would at least remember my name. If I wore a different wig to work, I wouldn’t be surprised if they asked for my ID. That is how popular I am.

I waited and waited for the cake, starting to feel like I was in a soup line. Great, she finally finished going through her gifts, and was now cutting the first piece for herself. Aww. That’s nice. Very sentimental.

Then it was on to the next lady who took over cutting bite sized pieces for everyone. She cut slowly, dipping the knife in a lukewarm cup of water every single time. Ok, eew. She didn’t even wipe it off. May be it was just water, but it looked weird and cloudy. It’s like when Starbucks stirs your drinks for you with a spoon they took out of a bowl of sanitizer. Ok, thanks for being clean, but about a teaspoon of sanitizer went into my drink because you didn’t wipe it off, idiot.

At this point, my stomach started grumbling, as I have had this cake before, and it wasn’t half bad. They got the same cake for birthdays and any other celebration that happened in the building. I watched in agony as Slowpoke continued to cut and dip and cut and dip. Then came the turning point, my good manners threatening to walk out on me.

She laughed and giggled directly over the cake, not only making her cut even slower, but allowing her laughing-bi-particles to fly right on top of the frosting. Okay, forget it! I didn’t even want it anymore, after that. Just forget it. I will pretend I had some willpower to say no to this carb-a-licious treat, when in actuality, I just didn’t feel like torturing myself with every bite, wondering if Slowpoke’s drool was on it!