For the past six months, I have regularly engaged in an act of espionage and theft against a fellow coworker. But in light of the impending end of my employment at Banfield, and in the spirit of the New Year, I am going to come clean.
I have nothing against this coworker on a personal level. He is a remarkably sweet, amiable, man. At the risk of making a sweeping statement, most Mormons are! And practically the entire senior management of Banfield is Mormon! I like Mormons. Anyone who’s lived in a Mormon-dominated region will likely agree that no group is, as a whole, more polite, pleasant, and full of smiles. And who better to be in charge of a large company with 1000’s of employees than an intimate club of very pleasant people??
But this isn’t about Mormons! This is about a large glass pumpkin that sits on the desk of a member of this kindly elite. This large glass pumpkin contains a constant supply (we’re talking like 3 pounds) of Peanut Butter M&M's, which everyone knows were crafted in ancient times on Mount Olympus along with the Nectar of the Gods, the recipe for which was stolen by the god Mars in the form of a mountain goat and passed down through the generations to Mr. Mars, who would then start a candy company and mass-produce them, thereby making Americans obese and helpless under the blissfully torturous mind-control of peanut butter and chocolate in a candy shell. Then, of course, Mars would go on to buy out the entire American pet food industry and a Portland-based pet hospital. Obviously.
But this isn’t about Mars and his master plan! This is about the deft and devious way I have looped around the office on casual strolls, glancing casually into the fish-bowl offices of the executives, counting down the doors until I would see the glorious, crack-cocaine-filled pumpkin of mystical wonder glowing like a beacon of seduction to my salivating mouth. On an ideal thieving day, the cheerfully nondescript Keeper of the Pumpkin would be miraculously absent from his desk, and the door would be invitingly ajar. My heart beating with joy, I would then stride confidently and quickly into the office, swiftly lift the stem of the pumpkin, and scoop out a handful of the colorful guts. Before the generous Filler of the Pumpkin of Joy could return or anyone could notice that I was a mere peon, I strode casually back out of the office and back onto my loop around the building, the tiny nuggets of peanut butter and chocolate safely cradled in my loving hand, where they would not melt, but rather wait to melt their transcendent bliss on my tongue.
But this isn’t about the delicious prize of my theft! It’s about the vacantly perky man who dutifully keeps a giant glass pumpkin on his desk filled with solid teardrops of ambrosia. In my twisted criminal mind, I never once considered befriending this generous soul so that I might broach his office with casual small talk while nonchalantly nibbling away at the heaven-filled pumpkin. I don’t even know his name! And it’s written on his office window! Somehow, it was not only the siren song of Peanut Butter M&M's that lured me onto these treacherous missions. It was the thrill of the theft. I was the closeted Wynona Ryder of office thievery.
…Well. I am closeted no more.
....I am also not quitting.... Just try and stop me. That shit is delicious.
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