Snack-Attack

 In my mind, “snack” is a very Minnesotan word. That’s because I say it like this: snayack. As in: “Oh, hieeye doah youah weahnt ah snayack?” (That was my Minnesota accent. My one regret of online stand-up is no opportunity for funny voices. I am considering attaching a .wmv file to each post.)

What I’m writing about today is called a snayack-attayack. That’s when your stomach decides it needs snacks: like cookies, or chocolate candy, or cake. You know, nutritious stuff.

I know what you’re saying: Molly, those aren’t snacks! They are desserts!

Or, if you are Elmo, you’re saying “Cookies are ‘sometimes food,’ Molly.”

Well, you and Elmo are dead wrong, because these are definitely “all the time snacks” in the employee lounge of my work. It doesn’t matter what time of day you might be passing through – you will encounter one of the above-mentioned items. (Or pizza. You might also encounter pizza.)

So let’s say you just got to work and it’s 7:50 AM. [Contractually you’re supposed to be there by 7:30, but hey, that Facebook newsfeed wasn’t going to read itself!] So you walk into work, feeling good because you had a nutritious breakfast of a hardboiled egg and whole-wheat toast.  You pass through the employee lounge on your way to drop off some copies, and then you see it, a full sheet cake. Someone’s having a baby/retiring/celebrating her baking addiction! How nice!

You decide that a little piece of cake before 8 AM is normal – after all it’s basically the same thing as eating a donut. And look! There are donut holes, too. Sweet.

Later in the day, you're on your way to the bathroom when you spot some leftover cookies from some other meeting or celebration of some kind. Don’t. Mind. If. You. Do. And then on your way back from said meeting the cookies are gone, but you notice Janet the office administrator refilled her candy bowl with miniature Twix bars, and hey, why not?

By the end of the day, that nutritious breakfast is a distant memory. You are now running purely on processed sugar and net carbs (not totally sure what “net carbs” means, but it sounds right).

This is what it is like to work where I work.

At least it was.

Lately, there has been a noticeable downturn in sugar available in the employee lounge. Like, almost none. Maybe everyone has just stopped having babies and retiring. Maybe that lady finally got help for her baking addiction. And apparently everyone’s eating all the cookies during the meetings now because there are no leftovers.

Also, that b**ch Janet hasn’t filled her candy jar in a month. 

I’m not saying I need this stuff. I am fully aware that I do not. But if you get people used to a certain . . . standard of living, it seems a little rude to abruptly take it away. Like, pretty rude. Like, I have a raging headache right now because it’s so rude. And my hands are shaking from the rudeness. And I am going to go knock over a bakery on my way home due to this rude behavior of my colleagues.

All I’m saying is that maybe when I get to work tomorrow there should be a tray of chocolate chip muffins on my desk. And a pizza on my chair. And a cookie in my mailbox. And a … okay I see the problem here. I will seek help.