I thought all non-food items in the kitchen were part of the common lot. I certainly do enjoy moving from a giraffe mug to being the ‘office angel’ in the space of an hour. According to a notice on the kitchen fridge, this is not the case. The disgruntled, yet carefully polite-but-stern, notice warned of suppers from ethereal Lucy-from-seventh floor’s pint glasses will be…displeasing her more. There wasn’t even a deterrent in the blunt pseudo warning. Glass using is the perfect victimless, perpetraterless crime. Incorrigibility of the highest degree. When I lived in student halls I once sliced my finger open on a shard of glass left in the sink. House – ’mates’ were treated to a violently worded letter covered in haemoglobin. At home, if I eat another’s snack, I get heavily berated and sure as hell won’t touch an unlabelled muffin again.

Thus, it does not work this way in the office. Implicit rules of society are helpfully wrapped up in law or entangled with innate morality. Office etiquette does not lend itself to such ease. It would be a fair appraisal to admit befalling the mangled and misdirected code has left me bewildered. Office etiquette evidently runs concurrently to what one, meaning I, would expect.

Apparently, it’s more than OK for another worker to place their Tupperware on top of my own. I’d consider that an invasion. Despite the kitchen existing as a kitchen, eating food in there appears to be forbidden. Scowls meet those who scoff. It is truly unforgiveable to have food that emits any scent into the atmosphere. Why is no one happy at this marker of good taste?

Unacceptable as it is to intrude on nose glands, it’s considered normative to twitch around as if you’re behind enemy lines. On Tuesday, the receptionist sought to evaluate all my life choices. The endearingly dotty buzzer-presser determined I had made some very poor decisions. It never occurred that my headphones were in throughout this entire exchange. Was this the epitome of reckless rhetoric?

Most irksome is jurisdiction of cupboard condiments. It’s an extremely multiculturally biblical interior. Interspersed in the community are doubles, occasionally triples, of every taste enhancer imaginable. Is it hence forth unforgiveable to share and share alike? Can’t we have communal pepper? Used pepper should only affront if it was the cracked black variety synonymous with stereotypical Italian values.

There are 32 litres of milk in the fridge. There is economy standard instant coffee barrel in plentiful volume. It would be a fair judgement that these are provided by management. Whoever management may be. I wonder if mysterious management also provided the painted on smiles everyone wears. The grins that bare it. Everyone with such social paranoia in said kitchen should be relieved that there is no room for a kitchen table. It really doesn’t bare thinking about.


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