I just promoted two people who report to me. The first of the month was the start date, and I wanted to do something special for them. After all, they are dependable hard workers who make me look good. So, along with an e-mail announcement going out to everyone we work with, I made a congratulatory sign, and bought a couple coffee cakes.
A poppy seed coffee cake. I didn't know I even liked poppy seed coffee cakes, but then I tried it when the bakery hade free samples, and I was sold.
So, here I come, into the office nice and early. First, I will hang the sign and then I'll get some coffee going. I turn on the lights and the copy machine, open up the bag from the bakery, and lay out the cake on the counter next to the microwave. Napkins, plastic knives, some little plates, all set.
Later that morning, after I've had more than my share of the poppy seed coffee cake, I realize that I'm one of the few who has actually eaten any cake. On closer examination, I realize I may be the only one to actually have sliced off any cake at all.
Meanwhile, the apricot coffee cake is devoured. All that's left is the little crusty end, devoid of streusel or filling, but when I pass by a few minutes later, it, too, is eaten.
'What is this other one?' asks a co-worker who likes eating as much as me. When I tell her it's poppy seed, her face falls.
'Poppy seed? In a cake? I thought it was chocolate.' Nevertheless, she slices a slim piece. After a few moments of deciding whether she likes poppy seed coffee cake, all she responds with is, 'That's a lot of poppy seeds. I don't think I've ever eaten that many poppy seeds at once. I've never had that many poppy seeds in my life.'
You're welcome. She doesn't have seconds, but I do. Well, actually, thirds or fourths—I've lost count.
What gives? It's great, with sugary streusel and buttery dough. I know, I know. Poppy seeds in cake is crazy. Poppy seeds are for savory items, not sweets. But, whatever is done to the poppy seeds makes them Lardy good, and the cake makes you drowsy enough that you don't even feel guilty about not doing work.
'Everyone doesn't eat poppy seed cake,' says my partner that night, all sure of himself.
'Yes they do.'
'You didn't used to.'
I sulk. But, then I realize there's plenty of leftover cake I brought home, and, well, I'm just not so sad anymore.
Leftover office food can bring out the worst in employees. There's the office worker who drinks too much at the Christmas party, or the closet eaters, who nibble like birds during the meeting, and then hang out afterwards, slicing quick pieces of desserts, and popping in handfuls of cheese cubes, an unsaid understanding that no one in the room will ever speak of this closeted food intake to each other or to anyone else.
Then there's the faux homeless man. He's the co-worker who makes a decent salary, has a nice home, and a new car, but ferrets out any meeting with leftover food, to swoop in and devour. Vultures would be scared, as he stuffs his Hefty bag with extra box lunches. The same crappy box lunches, to which most of us turn up our noses.
I mean, even if he wants to eat the sandwich for dinner, and even if he foists them on his wife and kids, just how many can they actually eat? The sandwiches in the boxes are bad to start with, the lowest of the low of our in-house catering, and the fruit is already mealy. They'll never make it until day two. Are there really rooms of relatives at his home, waiting for the white boxes to arrive? But, there he is, more dependable with his Hefty Bag, than he ever is in his job.
At least my happiness comes with leftover poppy seed coffee cake. I like it, and there won't be any leftovers for day two. In fact, next time I bring in treats for the office, I'll make sure to leave the apricot coffee cake back in the bakery, and will bring in a poppy seed coffee cake. More for me.