I’m not quite sure who you are yet, although I have my suspicions. There is an etiquette to the break room fridge and you have blatantly disregarded one of the principle rules. The first time it happened, I chalked it up as a rookie mistake. Maybe you confused that brown glass bottle for a Budweiser that shouldn’t have been there. The second time though, it wasn’t a mistake. It was an attack.
Stop throwing out my Kombucha, you fucking degenerate.
What I find so difficult to understand is why you would go for my ‘bucha, which had only just recently found its home nestled among packed lunches, when there are so many other nasty objects that have been in the fridge since this office building opened. Was every expired bottle of salad dressing and the half-drank can of generic brand Dr. Pepper really worth more to you than my $5-a-bottle tea?
I get that you may have rolled your eyes at this trendy beverage. It smells a little gross, and the idea of drinking something fermented that isn’t alcohol is understandably unappealing to some. The thing is, though, I wasn’t trying to force you or anyone else to partake in consuming this product. It did not affect you in any way. I’m not a big fan of mayonnaise, but you don’t see me throwing out people’s lunches if they bring in a sandwich. You know why I don’t? Because I respect my co-workers and their property, unlike someone in this office.
Was this a premeditated attack? Perhaps you were retaliating for the mean email I sent out to everyone asking that they stop sending me design requests on Saturday nights. If this is the case, kudos to you because you cut deep. I can’t even convey the grief I felt when I went into the break room ready to enjoy a crisp Kevita and found it tossed out with the early lunch crowd slop. Disgusting.
You have forced me to take a long lunch now, so I can go to Starbucks for a replacement designer drink. Plus, I need a little time away from this place to cool off and get my head level. I was ready to physically fight someone in the employee parking lot, and I need to come down from that adrenaline high.
Please note that I will be filling out a request for the business office to supply me a private mini fridge at my desk. I also feel that, considering the situation, I should receive compensation in the form of a regular Kombucha allowance. I could sue for harassment but HR can buy my silence with probiotics.
I work really hard to make sure it looks like I’m working hard, and sometimes a mid-day treat is all I have to look forward to. Once I know without a doubt who you are, I will make sure you know what it feels like to have your only pleasure stripped from you with no notice. Watch your six because I’m coming for you and any food or drink you bring into the workplace.
Karma’s a bitch, and so is a girl without her Kombucha. .
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