This is a follow-up to the previous corporate cray-cray post about some certain candy cawns and the mysteries surrounding their arrival and, to my great surprise, their same-day departure. Below, in somewhat particular order, are my thoughts about the snarfing of the cawn.
- WTF?
- Gremlins.
- People crazy.
- I must work with a bunch of Life Cereal Eatin' Mikeys; some folks'll eat anything.
- Why does someone always do this, leave one less-than-satisfying trace of something? It happens all the time with soda, other catered foods and pizza. They'll seriously leave the whole box sitting there. I've watched folk lift the lid to discover some dried up cheese that "chalk outlines" where the last piece was.
- Animals.
- So, you'll eat an entire trough of candy cawn, save one, and leave Cinderella's pumpkin carriage?
- Bygones.
Okay, so that was Tuesday. Wednesday mornin' the cawn was replenished, artfully piled above the brim. The irony of this replenishment coinciding with the start of our health benefits open enrollment period was not lost on moi. All that tri-colored temptation screamed cavities, deductibles and dental drills.
No thank you.
Presently the cawn is offering passersby a chance to take a break from month-end reconciliations, Excel mayhem and quarterly filings to delve into the existential: is the cawn mug half-empty or half-full? Does the mug know its limits? Do the mug-handlin' handlers know theirs?