Career Tear

Office Outbursts | Corporate Cries | Workload Worries

Who Ate my Stouffer’s Lasagna?

Posted by CareerChampion on February 2nd, 2009

TRUE STORY

It was a summer morning, when I pranced into work enthusiastic about what the day presented. Marginally tardy, I took the scenic route to the break room to place my individually proportioned Stouffer’s lasagna in the freezer to savor during lunchtime. All morning I was envisioning the harmony between my belly and that frozen gateway to culinary delight. Lunch had summoned as I pranced back into the break room and to my admonishment I discovered that the Lasagna had grown frostbitten legs and walked away. I searched the refrigerator, trash bin, floor, window, VCR, vending machine and sink to no avail. I was frantic that I would not be able to suppress my appetite with break room air so I did what any reasonable victim of Lasagna theft would do – I put out an All Points Bulletin.

I was initially discouraged that sending a frenzied and accusatory e-mail to the entire office with details of the crime would elevate to unnecessary chaos from the innocent, but I had to consider that an appetite was at stake here. Once the e-mail was received throughout the office, jack in the box heads began emerging from their cubicles. I received immediate and overwhelming support from other victims of break room burglary. I was the chosen one. I witnessed first hand accounts of water bottle kidnapping, salad stealing and blatant lunch room larceny. Thefts of frozen food dinners were occurring at an alarming rate and I had to intervene. If not me, who? If not now then when?

I arose from the fear of reprimand and made an office wide announcement calling shame to the culprit. I was convinced that this was no random act that this was the methodical sickness of one individual. It would start with frozen lasagna but by Christmas the thief would be inclined to steal the Secret Santa gifts to claim as their own. I was unwilling to sit idly by while a dark cloud of crime loomed. Proactive by nature, I had my co-workers checking individual trash bins for a distinct box labeled “Stephanie.” Knowing the cunning nature of criminals as depicted on Forensic Files, the evidence was likely consumed and external contents destroyed. My caper rant was interrupted when the Director of Operations visited my cubicle. To suppress an office riot, my manager begged me to stop and he offered to treat me to a Blizzard and chicken fingers basket from Dairy Queen. Victory was won. For the love of peace I digressed victorious and satisfied. Needless to say that was the last time that someone stole lasagna from me. Break room burglaries sharply decreased to a level of non-existence. I am proud that I spearheaded a revolt that, if followed to completion, would have attracted many casualties.

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