I try not to talk about work too much because of many reasons. One being that I try to comply with my employer's wishes and avoid hinting at what company I work at. Two being that some days are sorta frustrating to me and I want to forget about them when I get home.
Regardless, I have made many friends and met a lot of interesting people at my job. I do enjoy working with these guys, though sometimes things can get a little...out of hand.
Like last Friday.
You see, one of the perks of the workplace is that every Wednesday we are allowed one vote per employee on what to eat for lunch on the coming Friday. Then, the company actually gets whatever we voted on. When lunch arrives, everyone lines up for, eyes and hearts set on the prospect of tasty food. Food that came to us without having to escape the confines of our office and venture out into the restaurant-less area our building is located in. Food that we didn't have to pay for.
Over time, this voting system has become very polarized, with people cooperating with each other and voting for specific items en masse. The results are still tasty, but get tiresome after a while. I can only take eating Mexican food so many times within a two months span before I chuck that tasty burrito at the incredibly large window that I sit near.
That said, For the past seven weeks, I have been continuously voting for one elusive meal: Chinese. We hadn't eaten Chinese on a Friday for quite some time. I might also add that I am addicted to sweet and sour chicken. I expect that when I die and the coroner performs my autopsy, he will not fine blood, but tasty sweet and sour sauce congealed in my veins.
Last Wednesday, however, I had to give up my vote. The reason? I wasn't going to be there on Friday. Instead, my girlfriend, her mother and I were going to be in Las Vegas, celebrating my girlfriend's father's birthday. So I asked my supervisor what he wanted me to vote for. Like me, he desired for Chinese.
I casted my vote for him and then proclaimed rather loudly: "If Chinese wins this week and I'm not here to enjoy it, I'm gonna be so f*cking pissed!"
As I was preparing to leave that Friday, I checked Facebook to see that my supervisor left a message on my wall, detailing the top two choices for lunch day:
"Votes: Chinese 20. Pasta 10."
Posted underneath that was a comment left my another coworker:
"we're going to put some chinese food in your desk drawer for you. No need to thank us."
I thought nothing of it as I packed up and left for the weekend.
This was a mistake.
I came back to work on Monday and did my usual business: look at code, gripe about what the programmer before me wrote and how he cut corners, realize that I was actually griping at code that I wrote, cry a bit, fix some bugs, yadda yadda yadda.
Around noonish, though, something odd happened. I started to smell a faint scent. I wasn't sure exactly what it was or where it was coming from. I figured something had been spilled by my desk and that the cleaning crew would probably find it and clean it up later. After a few hours, I started to think that maybe the smell was coming from me? I just changed deodorants. Maybe Arm and Hammer produces a rather undesirable scent when it's been sitting in my pits for a few hours? Flippin' great. Wonder if there's a better deodorant. Will have to look into this later.
I came back on Tuesday. The smell is worse. What the hell? Where is this smell coming from! There's nothing in the trash cans, I didn't smell this before I left the house so it certainly wasn't me, there was nothing on my desk or the desks around me!
And then I thought back to my coworker's comment.
They didn't...They wouldn't!
What played out next was like a bad horror movie:
Check the bottom drawer.
Close it slowly. Move my hand to the middle draw.
Pull it open. Nothing. Phew. Two down, one to go.
Flip open top drawer.
Scream bloody murder.
Fade to black.
One last voice creeps out from the void before the credits begin rolling:
"Oh god! The SMELL!"