Since my last update on this topic, Human Resources Director Dolly Saunders' Mandatory Improved Living Focus program got significantly stricter, almost by the day.
After banning all sweets from the cafeteria and vending machines, Dolly learned that lots of employees were smuggling in snacks brought in from outside the office. So, not only did she institute a ban on outside food products, she had the robot guards reprogrammed to scan employees for sugary foods as they entered the office each morning. An additional mandatory workout session was added to each lunch period; time subtracted, of course, from the lunch hour and not form work time.
And who does everyone blame for Dolly's fitness fascism? Me, of course, all because I happened to make that remark about it seeming like I had several over-weight co-workers during my orientation a few months ago. I've tried to be apologetic, I've tried to be friendly, but nothing works. I'm the office pariah now.
I suppose there's some hope, though, after yesterday.
It was about 3:00 in the afternoon when it happened. I was in my cubicle, proofreading a press-release explaining why Amalgamated Humor would no longer be using certain chemicals in our dribble glasses any longer when I first heard the sounds.
The first sound might've been a distant thunder.
The second was a high tingling sound of bells with a metallic twinge, playing a happy tune. It was a sound familiar from the summers of my youth. It was the ice cream truck.
I wondered for a moment at how I could be hearing it so clearly so deeply into the corporate headquarters, when I suddenly heard the third sound: the sound of anarchy.
I stepped out into the hallway and so my co-workers, each sunken into a frenzied, bug-eyed madness, tearing at their clothes as they raced down the halls. I followed, I think out of mere curiosity. Or had I joined them in their madness? I'm no longer sure.
We reached the main entry hall where we found the source of the merry bells. An official Amalgamated Humor Ice Cream Truck had been driven into the building, straight through the front entrance, smashing down the door frames and removing big chunks of the walls around it. The front end of the truck had been crushed in by the impact. The driver, Judy Marbles (who looked as though she must've lost a good 75 pounds at least in recent months), was standing on what remained over the front hood, holding aloft a triumphant bomb pop.
"Sic semper tyrannus!" she shouted and shoved the entire bomb pop into her mouth. The maddened throngs cheered as she pulled her hand back, revealing only an empty popsicle stick.
My throat suddenly hurt. Why? My God, I was cheering as well!
And so my newly-strong co-workers fell on the truck en masse, tearing the metal double doors in the back right off their hinges. Fudgicles, push-ups, Cap'n Wacky Pops, creamsicles, ice cream sandwiches, Zonar bars, and drumsticks were all flung out to the crowd by the first people to get to the coolers.
Most tore madly into their treats, gorging themselves on the forbidden delights. I saw webmaster Eban Floyd rip off his shirt and smear a fudgicle all over his chest. I can't even repeat what I think I saw Marty Lurnlin doing.
And, then, suddenly standing out from the Bacchanal, I saw Dolly Sunders herself, desperately trying to shove two ice cream sandwiches into her already full mouth at the same time. Our eyes met for just a moment, hers were full of tears.
There was no official announcement, no memos were sent, but we all knew not to show up for the work-out session this morning. The vending machines had already been re-stocked with our old sugary friends by the time we arrived. On the cafeteria menu for today: sloppy joes, pizza, or corn dogs. For dessert: freedom.
Posted by carter at July 29, 2004 04:33 PM