From The Archives
This one will require some explanation.
At my last job, our building was undergoing major renovations. Construction was scheduled to last well over a year, and would prove to be one long headache. I was invited to join a committee appointed to lessen the burden on the rank-and-file. Since that’s my thing, join I did.
One of the early inconveniences was the closing of the cafeteria. Our committee decided to sponsor a free last meal, where employees could get a free hamburger, hot dog or grilled cheese, plus a free beverage. A nice gesture like that couldn’t go wrong. But just in case, I decided to play the Bill Simmons role and keep a running diary for the company blog.
Note: The times have been wildly approximated.
11:42 – People start to hover outside the cafeteria.
12:03 – About 50 people are already in line. They are commissioned as artists and folks begin to draw on the soon-to-be-demolished walls.
12:05 – First comment written on wall: “This place is great. Don’t change it!” D’oh.
12:07 – First complaint (“They should have figured it would be busy and bring in more workers!”)
12:09 – 63rd complaint (“I had to pay for my french fries!”)
12:24 – Another committee member physically removes a half-dozen people who were in line for thirds. And I mean forcibly.
12:32 – A third committee member overheard mumbling “Serenity now, serenity now” as the complaints come down like softball-sized hail.
12:45 – No more burgers.
1:04 – On her way out, a confused woman writes “Grilled cheese with raisin bread? Hmmm…” on the wall.
1:05 – I throw up in my mouth.
1:16 – Me: “Want a free hot dog or grilled cheese?” Passerby: “Free artery clogging food? Yeah right, pal. I think I’ll pass.”
1:19 – I’m still looking for the Punk’d cameras.
1:23 – About thirty people have passed “the wall” on my list of things I want to sledgehammer.
1:26 – Someone says, “Thanks, guys!” enthusiastically on the way out. For the time being, our faith in humanity is restored.
1:27 – We’re snubbed by a woman who refused to acknowledge us or our outstretched, flyer-toting hands. She boldly returns after realizing we’re the key to a free (assorted) beverage. I want to snub her right back, but instead I roll over and hand her one.
1:30 – No more grilled cheese, on raisin toast or otherwise.
1:36 – I realize I’ve been sitting on the AC vent for the better part of 90 minutes. No feeling from the waist down and knees up.
1:45 – Four hot dogs left. We quickly plot, then execute, our exit strategy.
1:54 – Crushed by the collective lunacy of my co-workers, I post this running diary on the company blog. That’ll show ‘em.
Three Months Later – The lunacy continues unabated. I tried.