Snack Time

I wake up every morning in a bed that's too small, drive my daughter to a school that's too expensive, and then I go to work to a job for which I get paid too little, but on pretzel day? Well, I like pretzel day. --Stanley Hudson, The Office

Today it's snowing in New England. It's a gentle snow, but long and steady enough for long-distance public transportation to be disrupted, and for my office to close early. Woo! Slightly less woo: I was so hungry that I went and bought a panini. By the time I got back, we'd all received notice that the office was closing immediately. I could have saved five bucks! Then my coworker, Ben, comes over and says, "Not to make you feel like your purchase was even less necessary, but snacks are here."

We get snacks every Friday at 2pm. My coworkers and I like snacks very much. Our jobs involve very little live interaction with others of the human kind, so when snack time rolls around, we'll often spend a whole hour, talking and laughing and distracting other people from their work. Snacks are very important to us. We like snacks.

Today, it became apparent to all of us just where snacks stood on our priority list. We'd just been released early from work on a Friday, and with the rest of the office deserted, we go have snacks. They'd been set out at the time of the announcement -- too late to take them back, but not important enough for anyone to stay for -- except us. We had them almost entirely to ourselves! Glorious abundance! I even brought some home.

Snacks snacks snacks snacks snacks snacks snacks.

Perhaps I'll tell you all later about how our conversation revolved around Ben fitting the profile of a serial killer. But more the basement kind, not the snapping-at-the-office kind, so we think we're OK.