Possibly I am being paranoid. Possibly I am being over-sensitive. Possibly I have developed a heightened siege mentality that is even now interpreting everybody’s cheery salutations as ballistae and cannon set upon bringing about my imminent downfall.
But this is chocolate we’re talking about here and it don’t get more personal than that.
My addiction to the cocoa bean is legendary. Not just around the workplace but worldwide too. I have in my possession a personal letter of apology from the Kraft MD for their callous take-over of Cadbury’s and a promise that they will not (upon pain of death) fudge the recipe for Cadbury’s Dairy Milk.
Actually I faked that letter but that’s not the point.
A big bag of chocolates were brought into the workplace on Monday for all us office types to share. I did, I admit, feel a slight modicum of guilt as I threw one of these chocs down my throat for I had actually paid Cadbury World a visit the previous week with my wife and kids and I had brought nothing back for my work colleagues at all. Not a bean. Literally.
In my defence I had limited funds, don’t give a jot for my work colleagues and tend to put my loved one’s first in matters of chocolate.
So sod ‘em.
But plainly there is a work colleague here whose grip on their chocolate is weaker than mine. The bag of chocolate was deemed fair game.
By the lunchtime of the first day though it had disappeared. It had been locked away to be “preserved for those work colleagues who were not on duty today but would be in attendance tomorrow”.
The unspoken accusation being that people currently on duty would, if given continued carte blanche, wallop the entire supply of chocolate down their masticating gizzards without a second thought for those colleagues who couldn’t be arsed to come into work today and grab themselves a piece with their own fair hands.
Well, tough. I say, sod ‘em again.
However, being of known chocoholic persuasion it was hard not to take the withdrawal of chocolate privileges as a personal attack. Infamy, infamy, they’ve got in for me, etc.
Now, I know for a fact that in the particular bag of chocolates that had been brought into the office there must easily be approximately 40 pieces of chocolate. I know this for a fact because my wife and I made our way through an identical bag at home last week (over the course of several days I hasten to add) and kept a rough tally on how many were in there.
I only had 4 chocolates out of the bag in the office. 4, goddammit. 4 out of 40+.
There are 7 of us in the office which means, if we were being mathematically fair, we were each entitled to 5.71 pieces of chocolate. 5.71. That’s practically 6 each and I doubt if even Professor Brian Cox would quibble with my maths.
I only had 4.
I had less than someone else in the office. But I feel like I am the one being persecuted.
Why? Why do they persecute me?
I hope they all find themselves on the road to Damascus soon.
I am more sinned against that sinning.
Honest. Now I feel so low I could do with a Boost.
Fiends, the lot of 'em! GIVE HIM THE BEAN. Poor Steve.
Being Me: I knew you'd understand. If I hadn't already eaten all my Milk Chocolate Buttons I would give you one.
All I can say is good thing I don't work with you. All's fair in love, war and chocolate.
Vix: that goes both ways, girl. I'm great at fencing with a ruler... I can guarantee you wouldn't get within 1ft of the chocolate.
Some lovely chocs in on your way to cheer you up, you poor soul!!! But not take them to work pleeease! Ciao. A.
Lunarossa: seriously? That's very kind if so and I hereby promise, hand on heart, that I will not share them with anybody. ;-)
May I suggest that as a gesture of your feelings for your co-workers you take in a large bag of chocolate and distribute it around telling all that they are free to eat as much as they can, hovering over them until they consume the lot.
Oh forgot to mention it should be Ex Lax chocolate £3.00 for a pack of 24...then you can give them back some of the S**T they seem to be giving you!!
“Ever get tired while you’re masticating your gizzard? Give yourself a boost …Have a break …Have a Kit Kat”
Brilliant tip Steve – thanks! I’ll definitely give that a test run later. My daily mastication sessions have become such a labour of love of late. Even if I deftly change hands half way through…the sparkles just not there for me anymore. I’ve been doing the back of my head in trying to come up with ways to spice up playtime with my worn out old gizzard. Never would have thought of chocolate. Just the boost I needed!! What a treasure trove of fascinating tips and suggestions this blog is blessed with. Bravo to you bloke. I’ll be sending off a letter of praise and commendation about you here to the head of Leamington Council, first thing in the morning.
What? Are you SURE you didn't get your fair allotment, Steve? Maybe you miscoutned? *she said with a mouth dripping with chocolate and a few beans clutches in her sweaty palm behind her back*
Joe: brilliant idea. And then - as the (chocolate) icing on the cake - I could tape sellofane over all the toilets. Instant bungy poo! Nice!
Phil: glad to help though a word of warning - don't try it with a Curly-Wurly. The toffee melts very quickly and becomes incredibly sticky. Depilation by toffee isn't big and it isn't clever.
Organic Motherhood with Cool Whip: talk about Lightning McQueen! I only had my back turned for an instant!
Ah, this explains your comment over my way yesterday. You are clearly in the grip of choco-rage and nothing but the sweet clag of cacao will calm your fervor. Just don't go on a killing rampage. Death by chocolate isn't a revenge movie.
And... ewww, Bungy poo ! - you are an evil man Steve.
Wait, you count your chocolate at home? Pair of freaks.
Keith: I take that as a compliment.
Heather: of course, I count the chocolate; it's the only way I can guarantee that I get the most.
Chocolate brings out the selfish gene in many of us. However, it may be that others were more greedy than you and others less so. If you feel bad, just think of your work mate who had his one and only chocolate snatched from his mouth as you scrabbled to ensure you didn't lose out.
Try to think of it as you being included in the median or mode, rather than plain mean. I'm sure that'll help.
Marginalia: I don't care about anyone else's lack of chocolate; only my own. When it comes to chocolate it's me over everybody. Everybody, do you hear me?! There's only 2 types of people in the world: the quick and the diabetic.
Did you mention a Boost. The bar of choice, or at least one of em.
The owner of the bag is probably saving a double-share for his mistress and another double-share for his masseuse. Which means, if you do the maths, that you got more than you deserve.
Mark: I'm intrigued as to the other. For me you can't beat the unadulterated hit of a Dairy Milk.
Gorilla Bananas: or, conversely, if someone is paying their masseuse with chocolate they're not going to be getting many "extras" while I'm getting my chocolate rocks off without having to get my hands dirty with someone else's bodily caramel.
Löst Jimmy: I've bean had by the Cads!
Hand me the rest of it and no-one will get hurt!
Amanda: see! That's the 'tude I'm talkin' about! Let's go into partnership - Bonnie & Clyde with chocolate moustaches!
I'm thinking that bringing chocolate into the office does not count as a team-building exercise.
You know I only eat dark chocolate. And people are always giving me milk chocolate (bless them). And I have this whole cabinet full of milk chocolate I don't know what to do with.
I pass your place once a week....do you have a reception area at work? one day I'm going to drop off some chocolate just for you....with a card...that'll set the cat among the pigeons!
Wanderlust: remind me to email you my postal address...
Libby: please sign it "Love Keeley Hawes" with lots of kisses. That'll have them talking about me for weeks on end.
You were done!! 1 and 3/4 chocolates should be yours; they owe you!
You could have had my share (the only choccy I eat is on marshmellow easter eggs). Call me crazy. Or just take the Kiwi's share . There must be a kiwi working with you surely. Tell them I said it was okay.
Yummm. Loves my chocolate! There's just some of us that can't quit, no matter what. Sorry you didn't get your fair share. Maybe next time. ; )
Suburbia: I've been done big time. It might be time to call the boys in, knoworrimean?
About Last Weekend: alas, we are a Kiwi free zone. I think Kiwis have got more sense than to work at my place. ;-)
Femminismo: next time I'll be using booby-traps.
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