You may remember the Evil Baked Goods People, as I call them, they are the co-workers who put out a calorie laden cart full of brownies, cookies, cakes, and other assorted baked items on a semi-regular basis. I still have yet to determine what they really have against fried foods items, or anything grilled for that matter, but, somehow, I’ve learned to peacefully co-exist with the EBGP. I’ve also since learned that they, in fact, are fluent in various vices including (but not limitied to!) the bar that serves mixed drinks and the semi-regular poker (Texas Hold ‘Em) tournaments that we have around here. I guess you could say they’ve all but cornered the market on the “bad” stuff that we collectively love to hate (or, perhaps, the good stuff we hate to love.)
So sometime last week, we get this email. It started out innocently enough, “Brownies on the 3rd floor.” I have learned to ignore the EBGP because, well, if I didn’t I would be 300 pounds, drunk, and broke. Some of my co-workers don’t have as much, let’s just call it “willpower” for lack of a better word. They get lured to the dark side very easily. Actually, I take that back, they don’t just get lured to the dark side, they bolt as soon as the first opportunity presents itself. They are sitting in wait of that dark side to just pop out like a big, bad baked evil Jack in the Box, with flailing brownies, cookies, martinis, and poker chips in place of limbs. (“Right this way! Step up and get your vices right here!”)
Now, I try to be nice and let some other folks know that there’s brownies, cookies, or what have you on the cart. As you can imagine, they usually don’t need my help. Two of the ladies who sit around the way from me bolt faster than greased lightening at the first sign of a chocolate chip. If there’s even a hint of a brownie wafting through the hallways, they are on it like white on rice. I think they’ve mapped out a schedule and programatically calculated how long, in milliseconds, it takes for them to make the trip from their offices to the fresh cookies on the cart. Typically, when I tell them that I’ve heard about an Evil Baked Good, they’re already enjoying one, or have just finished off the last of whatever it was that once occupied that evil little fattening cart of temptation.
So, the evil brownie email comes out, and I send “Brownies!” over to one of the bolting ladies. That’s when the baking powder really hit the fan.
You see, the ladies bolted, as they typically do, to the cart upstairs (probably taking out several non-chocoaholics on the way) only to arrive on the third floor, just in time to happen upon a tray of crumbs. Yes, you read it right, there were no brownies left on the evil little tray upstairs. Not only that but, somebody left a few measly crumbs to serve as a reminder of what once was. Oh the horror! Oh the humanity! Somebody didn’t even have the decency to wipe away traces of their trip down Chocolate Lane and left, a permanent “needer needer, I got the last one” reminder for all to see. To say the bolting ladies were pissed off would be putting it mildly. I heard moans of, “there was nothing but CRUMBS up there” all afternoon long. Luckily, no innocent bystanders were injured but I think we had a couple of close calls in the ensuing shake down for chocolate goods.
We’ve since come the conclusion that, just like witches in the east and west, there’s now an Evil Baked Goods Cart upstairs (what teasers you are and stop stomping your feet on our heads already!) and a NICE Baked Goods Cart on the 2nd floor (also known as “the floor where our Baked Goods People actually BAKE. So TAKE THAT!”)
Until next time…