Filthy Animals

I work in a Cubicle Farm. 

No, I’m not going to divulge which one, but it’s a Cubicle Farm none the less.

I also work with Filthy Sheep. That is, my co-workers are disgusting

Examples? Sure, here ya go!

Eggshells left on the breakroom table. Not in a bag. Not on a napkin. Just the shells of the hard boiled egg left in a pile on the table. Because it was so difficult to walk the 5 steps you were taking already to the trash can right next to the exit and throw them away. 

Crumbs, ohhhh the crumbs. You’d think there wasn’t a single paper towel or napkin available in the entire building for the amount of crumbs left on the breakroom tables every day. It’s getting to a point where I can guess with a 90% degree of accuracy who has been eating what when I see the state of the table tops.

The microwave ovens are constantly encrusted with cheese.

The freezer is overrun with ice cubes because people keep turning the ice maker back on even though THE CATCH CONTAINER IS FULL GUYS!! The ice cubes then tumble out of the freezer when the door is opened, like little frozen bungee jumpers who forgot their safety cords.

We have a Phantom Food Sticker. Too many times, others have exclaimed with horror “MY FOOD HAS BEEN TOUCHED!! SOMEONE STUCK THEIR FINGER IN MY FOOD!!” No one knows who is doing it. Visual confirmation of scoops of food, finger sized scoops have been made in dips, soups, salads, etc. It’s disturbing. But it makes me very glad that I bring frozen meals for lunch. (Ya can’t get your finger in my frozen meatloaf, Phantom Sticker!!)

Underpants. You heard me. Underpants. One day, I was exiting the stall in the Women’s restroom, and another woman was entering the stall two doors down from mine. She YELPED and jumped back from the door. Making a face like she had an onion directly under her nose. She said something, but it was so mumbly, I didn’t understand her. We made eye contact and she said “Look at this!!” I went over, an sure enough. Someone had left a pair of underwear on the back of the toilet. IN THE WOMEN’S BATHROOM. Which means, IT WAS A WOMAN WHO DID THIS! Here’s the thing, in every stall, there’s a garbage cans for when it’s Menses time (never flush your tampons or pads, gals). There are two garbage cans by the sink area. There’s an additional garbage can by the door. Why on EARTH would you leave the underpants on the back of the toilet when there were SO MANY different garbage can options??? 

It boggles the mind. The only explanation is that I work with a bunch of filthy animals.

It makes me want to wipe boogers on their ergonomic chairs. 



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