The Refrigerator Bandit

5 12 2009

A few years ago, I worked in an office where we had a community refrigerator.  This was where any food brought from home would be stored until lunchtime, snacktime, whenever.  For several years before that, we had the refrigerator and had never had a problem with anyone eating someone else’s food.  Of course, that could be because there were only 3 of us in the office.  So, it would be pretty easy to find out who took something that didn’t belong to them.  However, when we merged companies, we grew into a bigger office, bigger warehouse and more people bringing their food and keeping it in the fridge.  It was only a matter of time before the refrigerator bandit would rear his ugly head.

Within weeks of moving into the new office with our new workmates, stuff started mysteriously disappearing from the fridge.  A soda here, a power drink there.  As time went on, the refrigerator bandit (“RB” as we affectionately started calling him) got more and more daring.  Since he wasn’t getting called out on it, he started taking leftovers in the afternoons from the takeover someone would put in the fridge, eating parts of the food in the container and actually putting it back in the fridge.  One of the girls had Chinese takeout that she couldn’t finish and had put in the fridge to take home for dinner later.  She had to throw it out when she realized that someone had eaten part of her food and left the used plastic fork right on top of the food in the container.  Yeah, gross!  During inventory, we always worked late into the evening to finish.  I had brought a Diet Coke (my only source of caffeine since I don’t drink coffee) as a treat for later in the evening and to give me that much needed caffeine rush to finish the day.  “RB” had taken it, opened it, drank it, apparently realized it was “diet” and didn’t like it and put the rest of the opened up, backwashed laden Diet Coke back in the fridge.  Did he think I would think I had opened the soda myself and stuck it back in there?  Really?

We knew who “RB” was.  He was never officially caught red-handed.  But, some of the warehouse staff had seen him lurking around the fridge and actually taking stuff out of it.  He never brought anything with him to put in the fridge so there was no reason for him to go into the fridge.  And the fact that he made more money than ANY of us who worked there was a real rub.  So, the other office girl and I hatched an evil plan to get back at good ol’ “RB” and teach him a lesson.

“RB” had a real affinity for iced tea, it seemed.  That and the power drinks (like Monster and Rock Star) seemed to disappear with an alarming frequency from our company refrigerator.  So, my friend brought a good size bottle of Snapple Ice Tea and I brought a huge jar of the hottest chili peppers I could find.  She opened the bottle, drank more than half of the ice tea and we filled the rest with the juice from the entire jar of chilis to the very top of the bottle.  She then put the lid back on so tight, that it appeared to not have been opened at all and we stuck it back in the fridge.  A little while later, “RB” came storming into the office and headed straight for the bottled water, tears streaming down his eyes.  We immediately went to the refrigerator to check out the bottle of ice tea.  There was a nice big gulp of it gone.  We laughed so hard.  The only way I can figure that he didn’t realize there was chili juice in the jar was because he was in such a hurry so he wouldn’t get caught, that he just guzzled the ice tea without stopping long enough to smell it as it came close to his nose to drink. 

Needless to say, “RB” didn’t strike again for the rest of the time I worked there.  That’s what you get when you start pilfering what is not yours from the company fridge.  Beware!



Surprise! You’re Throwing a Baby Shower!

2 11 2009

Have you ever gone to a baby shower where the surprise is that YOU are doing the work instead of the people hosting the shower?  This happened to me almost 2 1/2 years ago when I went up to my husband’s brother’s house over 700 miles away to attend his wife’s baby shower being thrown by my husband’s sister and his mother.  I made the silly mistake of thinking I was a guest.  However, when I showed up, I quickly learned that this was definitely NOT the case. 

Like all grand plans laid out by my mother-in-law and sister-in-law, they had planned everything down to the last possible cute detail but hadn’t thought about how long it would take to get things ready.  So, the day after driving those 700 miles to my brother-in-law’s house, I found myself alone at the kitchen table making table decorations for a rubber ducky themed shower and following specific instructions on how many of these doo-dads go into the cheesecloth, how many of those confetti sticker thingys get added and how long the ribbon needs to be to tie everything together.  Now, I didn’t start out alone at the table.  Somehow, everyone found other things that needed their attention in the other room.  My sister-in-law (the mommy-to-be) eventually wandered in the kitchen and asked me where everyone else went.  I told her I didn’t know.  So, she sat down to put these little goodies together with me…and it was HER PARTY that was supposed to be done FOR HER.

The day before (on the day we had arrived after DRIVING 700 MILES…no, I’m not bitter), we had piled everyone up into two cars and gone on a scavenger hunt to find all the necessary items to make this the most precious baby shower ever.  We went merrily through the grocery store, snagging this and grabbing the “Oh wouldn’t that be cute!” that and stuffing it all into the grocery cart.  “We just HAVE to have those!”  In the cart they go.  Sister-in-law likes this for the baby.  In the cart it goes.  “ALL babies need THAT!”  In the cart it goes.  Hubby’s sister wants this magazine and those candies for herself.  In the cart they go.  When we got to the register, my mother-in-law heads straight through the line.  My sisters-in-law both dally in the back of the line looking at the magazine rack.  Register rings up the total and the clerk cheerfully lets me know the total (somewhere in the neighborhood of $70).  When I “ah-hem” loudly and ask if that is all they are getting, they cheerfully tune up with a “Oh, yes!” and head straight through the line.  I feel the blood rise in my face while I reach for my debit card to pay for all the stuff, including my hubby’s sister’s crap that had nothing to do with the baby shower.  If I had been asked to do it or even forewarned that it was going to happen, I would have been more prepared.  The blatant gall of it all just took me by surprise and totally floored me.

Oh, but we weren’t through yet.  The day of the shower, we went to the pizza parlor that this shower was going to take place in and started to decorate the area.  My hubby’s sis couldn’t help us decorate because she had to work that day.  She left us that morning of promises to help when she got off work (about an hour and a half before the grand event), but didn’t show up until after everything was set up.  My very pregnant sister-in-law couldn’t get up to hang decorations and none of us expected her to.  But, my mother-in-law sat down to keep her company while I was drafted volunteered to lay out the tablecloths, hang the banners, set up the balloons and place the centerpieces where they belonged.

I had a very tiring few days.  But it was a lovely party, if I do say so myself.  I did get paid back the money for the groceries after my husband got on his mother and sister’s case about it.  They told him that they had told me my brother-in-law would be paying me back (to which I called a “BS”, since they did no such thing).  You can imagine how wary I am whenever it is suggested that we come to a “family function”.  I don’t know how much of the “family” will be helping with the “function” and how much I am supposed to take care of.


Bingo Whore’s “John”

14 08 2009

My hubby had to go in for his pre-op appointment today.  In a couple of weeks, he will be having surgery on an umbilical hernia.  In other words, his “innie” is now an “outie” and they have to make it an “innie” again.  Too technical for ya?  He  was surprised when he went in for the pre-op and the nurse pulled out a gown to put on (medical gown, not evening gown).  He was to disrobe down to his undies, then put the aforementioned “gown” on, open to the front.  He refused to take his pants completely off, choosing instead to just pull them down to his ankles.  Then, he decided that he didn’t want to put the gown on open to the front (this would expose his “moobs”).  Picture if you will (sorry), a 280+ lb man sitting on a strip of paper backing in his undies with medical gown, boxers and pants around the ankles.  Not a pretty picture.  But, he felt this was much better than only boxers.  Obviously, he couldn’t see the mirror.  I just told him to “shush”.  I didn’t even get to keep my undies on for my hysterectomy pre-op earlier this year.  Why do the guys get to have so much less invasive exams?  I still wouldn’t want to be one, though.