By Popular Demand: “The Cream Cheese Incident”
Some folks have taken to asking me, “so, when are you going to write about the cream cheese incident?” So, by popular demand, here goes…(Please remember, you asked for this.)
When I worked for Sun Microsystems (my former employer) I used to frequently bring a bagel into work to eat for lunch. They had a little “kitchen” area, quite near the geographical center of the facility, that also served as a main corridor, lobby “spill over” area, and game room. In the kitchen (actually, in the main corridor, if you can picture it) there was a toaster. Every day, about the same time, I would plunk my bagel in the toaster and play a little pool at the pool table, while waiting for the smoke to come out of the top, signaling the end of my bagel. A lot of folks saw me at the toaster because, well, it also served as the main corridor to the building (not to mention that fact that, it’s usually rather difficult to walk past thick, black smoke bellowing out of an overly charred bagel.) Some folks took to making fun of my routine.
“Don’t you ever get sick of bagels?” David would ask.
“She’s having a bagel again today!” Gregg would say, while nuking his green box lunch (which he too enjoyed burning every day in the “I swear it sometimes works!” microwave.) It was just routine and we all can be such creatures of habit.
So, now I’m working at Motive (the place with great coffee) and I decide that, well, it’s been way too long since I’ve had a bagel. In an honest attempt at fixing what was probably not very broken, I brought in a tub of cream cheese, left it in the ‘fridge (it’s a community ‘fridge, just like the one at Sun) and started bringing in bagels.
The first day or two of this plan was executed flawlessly. Nobody suspected a thing. I found that the toaster at Motive, in quite the same way as the coffee machine, was actually quite better than the one at Sun and, in fact, my bagels were toasted to perfection (no smoke!) Nobody seemed to bother about my cream cheese which was, for a few blissful days anyway, left unruffled in the ‘fridge.
Fast forward to Friday of last week. I bring my bagel into the kitchen area, carve it up nicely, plunk it into the toaster, and wait. After toasting to perfection and earning my very own “pop” from the gleaming, shining, non-smoking, toasting machine, I set off into the (community) ‘fridge in search of my accompanying cream cheese. Well, as you could probably guess, there was no cream cheese in sight. Tub and all had vaporized. It had been a rather large tub and so, I suspected that somebody might have “borrowed” some cheese out of it but, I would have also suspected that, the same person who “borrowed” some would have, in fact, returned the tub to the ‘fridge. But, no, this didn’t happen. Tub, cream cheese, and all were long done gone, which left me standing there with a toasted to perfection but oh so cream cheese-less naked bagel.
I had to toss the bagel and became a bit hungry later in the afternoon. I decided that I would purchase a mini ‘fridge for my desk in an attempt at stashing away what was, apparently, quite the hot commodity. (It must be valuable, right? I mean, somebody swiped it tub and all and, I suppose, they didn’t leave a trail of smoke behind.) Somehow, I just didn’t suspect that there was such a black market for bagel condiments but, I guess, now I know. (I’m getting a mental image of some guy up on the third floor of my building, in a trench coat, saying, “Pssst. I got the good stuff…got yer Philly Whipped right here, boy!”)
At the Foo Bar (Happy Hour) in the evening, I complained about my lack of lunch, because, well, I didn’t want to drink on an empty stomach, and the bartender, after making me a rather nice large margarita, apologized for it not being made of cream cheese. I didn’t think the entire incident very “blog worth” but, alas, I’ve found it’s better to just force myself to write about these things, rather then trying to fend off the ugly mobs (well, all two of you. *Wave*)
And, besides, for all I know, there could be a blog out in the big, bad universe that starts out,
“Dude, all I had to eat at work today was some stale English Muffin. I was all fretting and stuff about what to put on it until I lucked out when I dove into the ‘fridge at work and found this great tasting cream cheese that was still fresh and all, and then this guy, that I used to know…”
So much for not writing about the “The Cream Cheese Incident.” I guess, now anyway, I just did.
Until next time…
