The Smoothie Thief

Someone at my work is a filthy, thieving bastard.

Look at this beauty. “Mighty Mango”. It even says on the label that it’s good for you. I actually prevented my husband from drinking any of this so I could hoard it for myself. And that could have gone on indefinitely, as the use-by date was sometime in November.

A couple of weeks ago, I brought it into work. It sat patiently in the fridge door, next to countless other delicious-looking pieces of pillageable treats. And yet, Monday morning, I trudge into work, sneezing like a fucking baby panda, very sick and craving some vitamin C, and find that it’s gone.

Who? Really? Why???

I can’t believe that, even in this day and age, we are still doing this ridiculous office cliche. I’m trying to get into the mindset of the fucker who just swanned into the break room (it’s really more of a hallway filled with K-cup boxes), opened the fridge, had a nice look ’round and then just fucking helped himself to my smoothie! I picture him looking a bit like Bill Lumbergh, braces and all, but a bit fatter, older and lankier-haired. He scratches his arse, grabs the bottle, pushes his glasses back up his greasy nose while he squints at the ingredients (all while leaving the fucking fridge open), then finally decides that this delicious mango nectar is good enough to drink for free. And then he just fucking takes it!

And then I bet it’s so good, too good, that he can’t even finish it. Never mind that it’s not even his, and that the actual owner would have drank all of it, and needed it, or that there are starving kids in space, but no, he probably throws this amazing happy tropical serum AWAY. My smoothie. MYY SMOOTHIE!?!!??

I didn’t even know how to bring this up with my manager. So I asked if there was a fridge-emptying schedule other than the one that was posted on the fridge, and she said no. I then pretended to meekly deduce right there and then that someone had nicked it. I made sure to put on my extra sad face (the one that got me a penthouse room “and a cookie” when I had to be transferred from an oversold hotel once). She seemed bemused by the whole thing and jokingly accused her boss (and my boss) of stealing it.

If this was in England, there would have already been a sternly-worded email sent around by a senior manager making this a huge issue. There would have been outrage, and maybe even disciplinary threats.  But I forgot that I now live in the land of the passive-agressive note. I suppose in this country, you defend yourself with guns (since the police are mostly useless), and you defend your food with borderline psychotic Post-its. Unfortunately, the company I work for is fairly conservative.

So how am I supposed to foil this thieving twat? I didn’t think that there was some unwritten rule that stated, “if you keep peering in the fridge and see the same thing for long enough, it’s YOURS”. If I leave a gruesome note saying I sprayed my food with AIDS, they’ll know it was me, because I’m the only one in the office with a zombie eye-popping stress toy and an ever-growing collection of Hallowe’en drinkware.

Maybe I could buy a locked box or just bring in something unappetizing, but I just can’t believe that in an office full of grown adults, there’s somehow a tosser who just thinks he can help himself to whatever he fancies, never mind who the original owner was. Like it’s a fucking free-for-all.

And they call us a “communist country”….!

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