I have few pleasures in my working day because I am a slave to dull administrative tasks and now, apparently, petty rules. The management team at my nameless, faceless place of employment has decided today that the best way to spread Christmas cheer and winter warmth through the office is to ban the consumption of hot food.
No longer can I spend my lunch hour supping homemade soup with a nice crusty roll while catching up on blogging or internet browsing at my desk. No longer can I walk the three steps from my desk to the office microwave to heat up delicious leftovers for sustenance. If I want hot food now, I either have to go out in the cold and battle against the hordes of students all craving hot lunches in the wintry climes or I have to schlep halfway round the building to find another microwave and then go and sit in some dark and poky little room entitled lovingly and creatively The Staff Room
Apparently there are people who work in my office who find the smell of hot food offensive. I am really struggling to get my head round this; that someone could be so pathetic as to be offended by their colleagues enjoying winter-suitable lunches. The other reason being bandied about by the management is that we’ve received complaints from students who come into our office for assistance – the very students who spend at most 10 minutes each at our front desk whilst we listen to them bleat on about their problems and then do our utmost to send them away happy and sorted. Surely that should be the crux of our interactions with them, not whether or not one of us has last night’s leftovers warmed in tupperware on our desk.
They haven’t banned hot drinks, though, so the managers who brew up cafetières of expensive and frankly stinky coffee are fine to continue. The lady who has Cup-A-Soup is also allowed to continue supping her warming liquid because it is in a cup and therefore a drink. On that principle, I am going to start drinking my homemade chunky soup from a cup. I might even go as far as blending my solid leftovers into a drinkable substance.
Frankly the whole thing stinks; as will the Camembert, Limburger and Stilton sandwiches that will replace my lovely warm lunches. Read more by Alice.