I had planned on blogging about how, when I was little, I wanted to have twins (a boy and a girl) and name them “Cowa” and “Bunga” after my favorite Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ catchphrase. You’re going to have to wait for that story, because all I can think about it how someone at the Lance Cracker Factory is messing with my head.
Work sucks on Mondays (usually), so I like to bribe myself with treats thoughout the day to keep from strangling myself or others with the vines of the Boss’ philodendron. A semi-brief look at my task/treat schedule:
7:30-7:45am: Catch up on my favorite blogs (this is my reward for getting to work).
7:45-8:00am: Take care of all the odds-and-ends work I didn’t feel like doing after 4:30 on Friday of last week.
8:00am: Walk to the adjacent department to see what baked goods Susan has brought for this week. Today–some sort of chocolate cake. Try to remember to wipe the crumbs off my face.
8:05am: Answer emails, return telephone calls, pound some numbers into my adding machine, blah blah blah boring stuff.
11:20am: Walk to upstairs to get some Lance Toast Chee Crackers (no, not a typo; I’m looking at the package right now and it is really spelled this way). These are delicious cheddar cracker sandwiches with peanut butter filling. Trust me when I tell you that the blinding neon orange color of the crackers in no way reflects how good these sandwich crackers are. Plus, a package of 6 costs only 40 cents!
But wait, did I say 40 cents? Because today, to my astonishment, my Toast Chee Crackers were clearly labeled 60 cents.
I’m glad no one else was in the 2nd floor break room, because I stood there for a good 2 minutes just staring at the vending machine, wondering what had I done to deserve this. I’m still reeling. To add insult to injury, after
wasting spending 60 cents on Toast Chee, I only had 40 cents remaining, which is not enough for a can of Coke. So I had to walk back downstairs and dig a couple of nickels out of my purse. I’m glad no one stopped me to ask how my day was going, because I think I would have said something along the lines of “shitty,” which is not really acceptable work place language (at least not at my current workplace; when I waited tables, if you weren’t having a shitty day at work that meant you were making lots of money, and that made everyone jealous and hate you). I came close to unloading some expletives on a co-worker who was in the break room when I took a picture of the offending Crackers. But she seemed genuinely sympathetic about the outrageous price hike, so I kept my rage in check. No reason to make an old lady cry, or showcase myself in an unflattering light. Not if it can be helped.