A few weeks ago, I ate a rack of ribs in the office for lunch.
TikTok sent it everywhere.
Children in famine-wracked countries watched it with their bellies rumbling and their mouths drooling.
As Dave said, all you need is a phone.
Rice is SO cheap these days.
In other words, I fed them.
Someone recently commented that my efforts to establish tone in the early paragraphs can bewilder the reader.
Listen here, fuckface: I’m not here to ease you in.
We’re not doing a warmup run on the fucking bunny slope.
I purchased the ribs from Mighty Quinn’s Barbecue.
Lunch for the entire office!
Mind you, this is the New York office we’re talking aboutnot the Chicago office.
That’s an important distinction because the Chicago office seems to eat free lunch every single day.
When would we slot in my free lunch against a packed calendar of free lunches?
Give it away, give it away, give it away, yeah.
Especially not if we keep eating gigantic platters of catered Italian subs for lunch like this.
I couldn’t wait to surprise my colleagues with a delivered feast for the ages.
Imagine the glee on their faces!
But the others look at food like it’s medicine wrapped in Chic-Fil-A heat-retentive space foil.
By the way, I may very well have the worst eating habits in the office.
Should we turn things around, team?
Not until they install a proper defibrillator on the wall.
As I penned my reply to Mighty Quinn’s, I thought about whether wedeservethis free lunch.
and “The New York office is dead.”
After a while, your only choice is to register a burner and add some commentary yourself.
Even if it’s straight into the jaws of a sloth of grizzlies.
I believe the withholding of this barbecue lunch is the first step towards regaining stride with the Chicago outfit.
In no time at all, we’ll be the lean, mean, fighting machine of yore!
Thanks for the feedback, everyone.
It has been logged.
