Yeah, I know this here soup and half sandwich combo is incredibly exotic, and a real conversation piece, and I know it probably catches you off guard when I’m eating it at 12:30PM, but can you please refrain from asking me about my lunch when I’m in the process of eating it, because it gives me this strange impulse to throw my beef barley soup in your face, and the reasonable side of me knows that this would be impolite. And it’s really not so much the question itself as it is the peering that comes along with it. Like, stretching your neck up high so you can look into my soup container is completely unnecessary. So what started off as a pilgrimage to my cube to explain why you fucked up the TPS report (again) turned into a spectacular lunch show and tell. I know, I know, the sight of someone eating lunch at her desk has a tendency to stop coworkers dead in their tracks, but let’s move along people, there’s nothing to see here.
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8 comments:
LOL. Seriously though, this drives me crazy. Especially when people stare at your plate, and then watch you take bites at a restaurant. Have you been starving on a deserted island the last few months? Or are you just a fat fuck?
If I'm getting something a little nasty like a meatball sub or chix parm, I shut my office door, turn off the lights and pound it under my desk.
One of those things that I hate, but I do.
that's called prairie doggin' when someone's mug is looking over your cube wall.
What ah yah EAT-in THEy-YAH!?
i have shame-eaten food behind closed doors as well. i dont need your judgements assholes!
Love that Paparazzi jam by the way.
One time I took a slice of pizza into the bathroom at my office and ate it in one of the stalls. And I'd do it again too.
If it weren't for those pesky kids?
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