November 14, 2011

November 14, 2011

Chill

I recently saw a great article showing office fridges from your (and my) favorite TV shows, blogs, and other media producers. I found it fascinating, and not just because it was about food. You can tell a lot about what a person keeps in the fridge at home, but perhaps even more about what they keep in the fridge at work.

Your home fridge contains the stuff you need to survive. Eggs. Bread. Medication for that weird skin thing. Your kid’s science project. It’s routine. It’s boring.


With a work fridge, you have the option to put your best foot forward. You can choose to have a fridge filled with fancy waters and tinfoil swans. Imported honey. Coffee creamer made in small batches by blind nuns. “What’s this, you ask? It’s just a mason jar of agave oil my friend Caspar had smuggled out of Mexico. He knew I liked it in my tea.”


Working as I do for Uncle Sam, I forget that a good number of workplaces allow the occasional (if not frequent) possession and consumption of alcohol. Perhaps your office fridge is nothing but PBR.


Now, disliking people and commingling of possessions as I do, I’ve opted to purchase and maintain my own minifridge. I believe this is the way to go. Everything in there is YOURS. YOUR STUFF is the only stuff in there. The stuff that’s in there is ALL YOURS. Get my drift? Don’t ask to put the other half of your $5 footlong in my fridge. I will eat it. In return, I won’t ask you to keep my coffee warm by holding it in your hands for the next two hours. I believe it was the Communists who said, “From each according to his ability, to each according to his need for climate-controlled food storage,” and I am no Communist.


Plus, you get to buy great fridge magnets that subconsciously proclaim your world views. (Please, no magnetic poetry.)


I feel like there should be a branch of anthropology dedicated to office fridges. Whose lunch will rot over Thanksgiving? Has the yogurt that’s been in there for two years actually turned to cheese? How many packets of ketchup can fit in the door until they attack each other, “Lord of the Flies” style? The drama! The tension!


I keep a small jar of relish in the communal refrigerator just to keep a hand in the action.

0 Fish in a Sea of Diet Coke: