Say Hello to the New Fridge Czar

For the past few weeks, my office has been in the process of renovation. New paint, new carpet, and most exciting for me, new furniture. As part of the overhaul, our kitchen** also got new tile. On Monday morning my boss and I were scrubbing out the fridges*** and griping about how gross people are. We actually threw out a cup of yogurt that expired in 2004. I suggested that we have a weekly fridge cleanout to prevent any further Hazmat situations. I elaborated on the concept, coming up with a complicated rotation scheme whereby everyone in the office got a chance to tidy the fridge. If it is done every week it is not such a big chore, right?

My boss asked me to send around an email explaining the new fridge policies - which include little ditties like not putting an entire 12-pack of soda in the fridge and hogging up space, not bringing in a month's worth of food and hogging up space, so forth and so on. Yes, I felt like the teacher's pet. But my boss asked me to do it and in these uncertain economic times, I do what I am told.**** I spent 6 hours, 3 drafts and a meeting with my boss crafting the perfect email. With bated breath, I sent it out. I expected to get hate mail in return. But instead I got 20 emails from 20 different people all dubbing me the Fridge Czar. Hardy har har. I love originality.

I suppose if there WERE a fridge czar, I would be a good candidate. I have always been a rule follower. I believe in justice and fair play and when people violate those concepts I get my hackles***** up. Take today for instance. I was on the metro, about mid-day, and I see a gentleman buttering and then munching a bagel. With a cup of coffee between his feet. Then munching bagel. Then swigging coffee. Then munching. Then swigging. On the metro. I had to grit my teeth from screeching at him YOU ARE BREAKING THE LAW. I kept looking around, waiting for an undercover officer to slap a summons on him. Now, my sense of fairness is not linked to my kind and thoughtful personality. Moreso it grows out of the pissiness I feel when I get in trouble for stuff and other people don't. If I so much as take a stick of gum out of my purse, I will be slapped with handcuffs and taken downtown. But Mr. Butterworth could sit there hoovering up his breakfast and no one says a word. Unreal.

Today's bonus game: I will give $1 to anyone who can correctly identify the circumstances that led to me taking this picture today:





**Which coincidentally is adjoined to my cubicle. Of course the fattest person in the office sits next to the kitchen.
***If you are thinking that I am ass kisser, your thinking would be correct.
****Who am I kidding, I always do what I am told.
*****Where exactly are your hackles?