Monday, January 10, 2005
The Evil Baked Goods People
The Evil Baked Goods People
I realize that I haven't talked much about my new job. I won't bore you with the typical work-related stuff, other than to say that, at my new gig, it seems they have a mailing list for just about everything. There's one for mountain biking, one for off road biking, one for bike racing, one for mountain bike racing, etc. You get the idea.
Deeply buried in the bowels of the listserv is an extra special mailing list. It's called "Baked Goods." I swear I'm not making this up, they actually have a mailing list devoted to "baked goods" (nothing fried here! Nope, email spam devoted to everything baked.) As if a mailing list weren't bad enough, they have a cart. It's not a big cart but, as you might guess, it packs a lot of calories.
I used to have no issues with The Baked Goods People, as I call them. They used to sit downstairs, on the first floor of my building, with their little cart full of calories and pimp their pastries to unsuspecting passers-by, while I sat comfortably upstairs, ignoring them. Back in the "good ole' days," I was a live and let live kind of calorie-avoider. Not anymore. The Baked Goods People have moved in on my turf. They moved themselves, their little pastry pimping calorie mobile, and all their listserves upstairs to the second floor, right near where I sit my overweight butt down to work. I can almost smell the wafting pastries from where I sit.
If this weren't bad enough, one day last week, The Baked Goods People took it upon themselves to bring in not one, not two, but THREE separate rounds of "baked goods" in one day. It started out innocently enough, with frosted oatmeal cookies. I was ok with that, just avoided walking past their little calorie laden cart. Then, by midday, they were up to homemade chocolate chips. Still I managed to avoid their temptations and just get up and walk away. But then, around 4 in the afternoon, they brought out the big guns. Homemade chocolate cheesecake with frosting and delicate icing on top. It was the motherload of saturated fats, cholesterol, and addictive coco bean byproduct, not to mention the icing on top just looked really good.
Most of The Baked Goods People are technical writers. Actually, I take that back, I'm not really certain if they are writers who bake or bakers who write. But, I have decided that, after the chocolate cheesecake incident, they are just pure EVIL incarnate. I can't even walk buy their little pastry pimping mobile anymore. I walk completely around the building to avoid them. I feel like I have to run for my waist everytime I see one of them.
I just have this mental image of some tech writers in purple fake fur coats, lots of bling bling chains around their necks, gold teeth in their mouths, and walking sticks by their sides, standing next to the pastry pimp mobile pushing their Ho Ho's off on unsuspecting development staff, who seem to just gain weight by the millisecond, even from doing nothing more than sniff the fumes from their damned little cart.
It's a jungle in here. Thank God for the $10,000 latte machines, or it'd be completely uncivilized.
Until next time...
¶ 11:45 AM
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I realize that I haven't talked much about my new job. I won't bore you with the typical work-related stuff, other than to say that, at my new gig, it seems they have a mailing list for just about everything. There's one for mountain biking, one for off road biking, one for bike racing, one for mountain bike racing, etc. You get the idea.
Deeply buried in the bowels of the listserv is an extra special mailing list. It's called "Baked Goods." I swear I'm not making this up, they actually have a mailing list devoted to "baked goods" (nothing fried here! Nope, email spam devoted to everything baked.) As if a mailing list weren't bad enough, they have a cart. It's not a big cart but, as you might guess, it packs a lot of calories.
I used to have no issues with The Baked Goods People, as I call them. They used to sit downstairs, on the first floor of my building, with their little cart full of calories and pimp their pastries to unsuspecting passers-by, while I sat comfortably upstairs, ignoring them. Back in the "good ole' days," I was a live and let live kind of calorie-avoider. Not anymore. The Baked Goods People have moved in on my turf. They moved themselves, their little pastry pimping calorie mobile, and all their listserves upstairs to the second floor, right near where I sit my overweight butt down to work. I can almost smell the wafting pastries from where I sit.
If this weren't bad enough, one day last week, The Baked Goods People took it upon themselves to bring in not one, not two, but THREE separate rounds of "baked goods" in one day. It started out innocently enough, with frosted oatmeal cookies. I was ok with that, just avoided walking past their little calorie laden cart. Then, by midday, they were up to homemade chocolate chips. Still I managed to avoid their temptations and just get up and walk away. But then, around 4 in the afternoon, they brought out the big guns. Homemade chocolate cheesecake with frosting and delicate icing on top. It was the motherload of saturated fats, cholesterol, and addictive coco bean byproduct, not to mention the icing on top just looked really good.
Most of The Baked Goods People are technical writers. Actually, I take that back, I'm not really certain if they are writers who bake or bakers who write. But, I have decided that, after the chocolate cheesecake incident, they are just pure EVIL incarnate. I can't even walk buy their little pastry pimping mobile anymore. I walk completely around the building to avoid them. I feel like I have to run for my waist everytime I see one of them.
I just have this mental image of some tech writers in purple fake fur coats, lots of bling bling chains around their necks, gold teeth in their mouths, and walking sticks by their sides, standing next to the pastry pimp mobile pushing their Ho Ho's off on unsuspecting development staff, who seem to just gain weight by the millisecond, even from doing nothing more than sniff the fumes from their damned little cart.
It's a jungle in here. Thank God for the $10,000 latte machines, or it'd be completely uncivilized.
Until next time...
¶ 11:45 AM
