The Politics of the Office Morning Tea 2
Well I'm feeling better now, I've got a lot off my chest that really needed to be said, now I can take a deep breath, and move on to other pressing morning tea issues.
So - a quick thought for today:
Why go to the trouble of buying sausage rolls and those brilliant little party pies (oh party pies...) to feed to people for morning tea, if you are only going to microwave them to soggy hell just in time for the meeting? You know the scene, you walk in to another crappy morning tea, someone's birthday no doubt or an update on the reasons for those last people disappearing one day from the office, along with all records of their previous existence (just to quell the rumours you understand, can't have unfounded rumours). Your eyes light up at that unexpected lack of three cake syndrome. You see the sausage rolls just sitting there, looking nice and warm and you think to yourself "Today just might be my day after all." You happily saunter towards the table, idly picking hold of a paper napkin from the top of a pile on the way, until you find yourself face to face with a plateful of sausage rolls. You reach down and pick one up. It is hot, too hot, and soft, too soft, but you do not let yourself think the worst, not yet, no, for you are an optimistic person, you refuse to let the soul be torn from your soul hole oh yes you do. So, you rest the roll on the napkin, and blow, then raise it to your mouth. But you know as soon as you've bitten in that all optimism in this worl is due eventually for a nasty letting down. For the pastry is soggified all to hell, and it peels off the meat and sticks too hot to the roof of your mouth as you look wildly around the room for water, cola, and stare bug eyed for help but there is no help, for there is no help for anything in this office. And as the roof of your mouth slowly blisters and peels off, all you can do is stand, try not to cry, and think to yourself: "Why oh why oh why???"
It is a terrible terrible thing, the microwaved sausage roll. And so easily solvable with a small amount of forward planning and preheating an oven. So, obviously we'll need another slogan if we are to beat the monsters in our break out rooms, let me think, how about:
If the roll is soggy feed it to the doggy
or,
It pains my soul to eat soggy sausage rolls
or,
If it's microwaved, it's too late to save
OK, They need work.
So - a quick thought for today:
Why go to the trouble of buying sausage rolls and those brilliant little party pies (oh party pies...) to feed to people for morning tea, if you are only going to microwave them to soggy hell just in time for the meeting? You know the scene, you walk in to another crappy morning tea, someone's birthday no doubt or an update on the reasons for those last people disappearing one day from the office, along with all records of their previous existence (just to quell the rumours you understand, can't have unfounded rumours). Your eyes light up at that unexpected lack of three cake syndrome. You see the sausage rolls just sitting there, looking nice and warm and you think to yourself "Today just might be my day after all." You happily saunter towards the table, idly picking hold of a paper napkin from the top of a pile on the way, until you find yourself face to face with a plateful of sausage rolls. You reach down and pick one up. It is hot, too hot, and soft, too soft, but you do not let yourself think the worst, not yet, no, for you are an optimistic person, you refuse to let the soul be torn from your soul hole oh yes you do. So, you rest the roll on the napkin, and blow, then raise it to your mouth. But you know as soon as you've bitten in that all optimism in this worl is due eventually for a nasty letting down. For the pastry is soggified all to hell, and it peels off the meat and sticks too hot to the roof of your mouth as you look wildly around the room for water, cola, and stare bug eyed for help but there is no help, for there is no help for anything in this office. And as the roof of your mouth slowly blisters and peels off, all you can do is stand, try not to cry, and think to yourself: "Why oh why oh why???"
It is a terrible terrible thing, the microwaved sausage roll. And so easily solvable with a small amount of forward planning and preheating an oven. So, obviously we'll need another slogan if we are to beat the monsters in our break out rooms, let me think, how about:
If the roll is soggy feed it to the doggy
or,
It pains my soul to eat soggy sausage rolls
or,
If it's microwaved, it's too late to save
OK, They need work.
posted by Lackey | 5:00 pm
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