Critcal Mass

This morning a drug rep brought bagels from Bagel Central (a very Kosher establishment in town). I didn’t really want to eat while I wasn’t hungry, so I waited until around 10:00 to go toast a bagel. The name of the bagel must have been “Plague of Blueberry” because the outside seemed to consist of more blueberry than bagel. I took the bagel to the main kitchen to toast it, trying not to touch it directly in case the plague was communicable. When I went to return the cream cheese to our conference room, I saw another drug rep had come with a whole platter of whoopee pies. I can never pass up a whoopee pie. Unless I’m feeling like a philanthropist and there are those I consider “less fortunate” around. So, here I am, at 10:00 with a Blueberry Plague bagel and a whoopee pie on my desk. But the day gets better.

Right around the same time a coworker of mine comes around with a lunch menu. A drug rep is providing lunch for us. (You need no longer wonder why your prescription prices are so high. Your money goes directly towards increasing my girth.) We are ordering from Bugaboo Creek Steakhouse. I always eat too much at Bugaboo. Lunch is in only 2 hours.

Before lunch arrives, 2 platters of cookies show up in the office. I stop asking where it all is coming from. And I stop eating. No cookies for me. That’s too bad; I really like cookies.

During lunch, after eating too much, I’m told another drug rep would be coming this afternoon with “goodies.” Granted everyone’s idea of what is “good” may be different, but I’m sure no one is thinking what I’m thinking right now: a stomach pump.

When I come back out from lunch a coworker at our front desk is on the phone. I don’t know who she is talking to, but I hear “No, we don’t need that, there’s already plenty of food around here.” Apparently I’m not the only one who has reached critical mass.

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