I really appreciate how Dunkin Donuts encourages their patrons to share various Dunkin-related stories. Historically it’s always worked out well for me (see here and here) and I’m glad that the organization cares so much about my welfare and general habits to inquire about #mydunkin.
My story involves being an office temp at a job where I get to watch the full-time employees enjoy perks such as the boss bringing in a cardboard gallon of Dunkin Donuts coffee for them. And after, when the full-time employees are throwing a party with a specific note on the door that says “FULL-TIME EMPLOYEES ONLY” I decided to take several of the unused Dunkin cups, go into the secret party room filled with food and paid sick leave, and filled them with mac n cheese. So I guess #mydunkin involves pilfering food and cups from my office superiors and hiding at my temporary desk while eating it.
#mydunkin arrives in my tummy through swindling and shame
I also stole the spoon
At first I was willing to deal with the office monster in extremely good humor. See ? I even came to the defense of the fridge monster because 1. That note was written by the hand of someone who gives too much of a fuck 2. Because fridge monster at that point had eaten two containers of hummus I left in there and I wasn’t really that bothered because 3. I used to be the fridge monster at my last job
But since I wrote my hilarious response to office bastardry, and I thought I had sorted out some solidarity with hungry co-worker and fellow thief; fridge monster seems to have taken sole and exclusive comfort in my lunch bag. With extreme consumption prejudice – they ate my leftovers. I’ve retaliated.
I don’t even know myself anymore. The hunted has become the hunter.
Outside of this:
Funemployment has taken a dark turn to focus on Dre, cats, and Microsoft paint
It’s the final week of working at my job after getting the lay off notice six months ago. In efforts to appear supportive, the team that is replacing us sent us a gigantic fucking card thanking us…for our jobs. Which are now their jobs.
To paraphrase a co-worker, how dare they use cats to further their agenda?
But then those Canadian bastards raised the bar on emotional (and…in a way physical) manipulation.
They collaborated with a bakery in Philadelphia to send us all fancy cupcakes
which I handled with my typical self-restraint. I took two and am circling the remainder of them like a shark around a wounded seal
My heart melted.
Until I of course remembered that with a paycheck I could just buy my own damn cupcakes. I will not be satiated by a gift of fancy cupcakes (physically yes, and to a degree emotionally, but not monetarily). I know your tricks, Canada
Take to the internet
Listen up, Canada, I’m coming for you. And when I say “you” I mean:
Real Canadian heroes
Actually, I’m just going to take another cupcake and curse you.
From my very limited understanding of history, the last days of Rome were a rough place to be: hedonism, theft, moral malaise. And while I gathered these opinions about the civilization’s decline following a less than five minute Google search, I can confidently say that my declining juncture at my job is probably similar.
Or maybe not. But I am stealing everything that isn’t nailed to the ground. The most eccentric theft to date pertains to my aggressive love of hot sauce.
Some nice person left out a communal hot sauce for the lunch room, and while I appreciate the spirit of generosity I more greatly appreciate free condiments. However, I couldn’t just take the bottle of hot sauce in broad (albeit florescent) daylight. So, I did what every crazy person would do.
I dumped half the bottle of hot sauce into the remains of a Herr’s pretzel bag
And my lunch then consisted of:
it consisted of pretzels, a bag of stolen hot sauce in an old pretzel bag, and – what the hell – I stole a packet of cream cheese for the fun of it
Next up: trying to thieve the vending machine.