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!

B.W.





Your What is What? Where?

23 11 2009

A co-worker got a pen stuck inside our printer.  He started to try and remove the pen, but I told him we don’t have time for that now.  Just put a note on the printer telling folks not to use it and then report it to the Help Desk.  So, he grabbed a piece of paper and scrawled on it.  I left before he finished the note.

About 20 minutes later, one of my techs comes in laughing and says he was just in the lobby, saw a piece of paper on a printer and went to investigate.  The following is what he found.

Sometimes things don’t always come out the way you want them to………

Happy Monday, people!

B.W.





Full Moon at Halloween

26 10 2009

It just isn't Halloween without a full moon!

I knew you couldn’t resist!  You’re naughty, naughty children and need to spend time in the naughty chair.  I hope you have a Happy Halloween!

Heather Chavez, Real Estate Virtual AssistantSecond Self Virtual Assistance: When There Isn’t Enough of You to Go Around!





National Holy Cow You’re Hot Day

10 09 2009

Today is National Holy Cow…You’re Hot Day!  Make sure you tell someone “Holy Cow! You’re Hot!” today.  But, don’t worry about telling me.  I have already heard that SO MUCH today.  It’s starting to get embarrassing.

September 10th is National Holy Cow, You're Hot Day

Heather Chavez, Real Estate Virtual AssistantSecond Self Virtual Assistance: When There Isn’t Enough of You to Go Around!





A Peanut Butter and Jelly Childhood

8 09 2009

peanut butter and jellyReading Ana Hitzel’s blog post: Peanut Butter and Jelly, reminded me of when I was a kid.  When I was 10 years old, my parents divorced.  My mother decided to move all five of us kids (with me as the oldest and my 2-year-old brother being the youngest) to Salt Lake City, UT.  Apparently, as a Mormon, that is where you naturally gravitate after your marriage dissolves.  We had not family or friends that lived there, but that’s where we moved.  (I don’t know the reasoning behind it.  It just made sense at the time, I guess.) 

Anyway, we were very involved in our faith, sometimes going to church three times a week.  As such, we were always involved in church outings.  For Mormons, this involved ALOT of family-oriented activities with lots of kids and lots of food.  My mother thought we were just the most precious beings in all the land and decided that we must be shared with the poor souls unfortunate enough to have been blessed with our presence at these church outings.  At some point, after everyone had been well fed and sat around digesting their food, my mother would traipse her ragtag band of 5 children (no, the youngest did NOT get to wriggle his wayout of the public humiliation that was about to begin), set them up on the highest platform available for all the congregation to see (usually, this was a picnic table of some sort) and start us off on our singing of the “Peanut Butter and Jelly” (“Peanut, peanut butter…and jelly [whispered].  Barney, the purple dinosaurPeanut, peanut butter…and jelly [whispered]”), the “Free Widdle Fishies” (“Down in a meadow in an iddie-biddie pool, fwam free widdle fishies and the momma fishy, too”) or, if things went really well and my mom felt particularly proud, we would perform a medley of both songs, complete with choreography.  Oh yeah.  We rocked!  We always had quite a gathering around us to enjoy our fancy footwork and they ALWAYS clapped.  Why else would they clap if they didn’t think we were awesome?  I chose to ignore the “Oh those poor children” stares. 

I thought I was over this childhood trauma until my son was about 3 years old and Barney came on the TV singing it.  That damn purple dinosaur sent me back in time to a little green picnic table in the middle of a park in Salt Lake City.  “Peanut, peanut butter…and jelly (whisper).  Peanut, peanut butter…and jelly (whimper).”  Thanks, Barney.  And, thank you, Mom.

B.W.





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.

B.W.