I recently came across a news story (if you stretch the definition of “news” about as thin as it can go without breaking) concerning a man whose lunch was stolen from the fridge in his office’s break room. The lunch—freshly-purchased shrimp fried rice, for those wondering—seems a tempting target for a hungry co-worker, but the container was subsequently found stuffed into a trash can, with the food intact.
This incident provokes a number of questions, chief among them “What was wrong with the shrimp fried rice?” It also points a spotlight on the minefield that is the office break room. It’s been a while since I worked in a multi-person office with a break room, but I well remember what it’s like. Here are a few observations, and gentle suggestions for those who confront them on a regular basis.
Pod people: Single-serving coffee machines such as Keurigs are proliferating, as it is more economical for each person who wants a coffee to make a cup when they want it, rather than brew endless pots of coffee which end up having three-quarters of the contents dumped. If you use the Keurig machine, remove the pod after you’re done. It’s a small thing, but it’s surprisingly annoying for the next user, and it’s only a matter of time before “pod rage” joins the language.
Fill ’er up: If the Keurig machine is the type that needs to be manually filled with water, don’t be that person who eyes up the reservoir, decides there’s just enough for your cup of joe, and doesn’t top up the water. It takes seconds, and saves the next person having to fill it up and wait, cursing silently, as the water heats.
Community chest: When it comes to the fridge, unless an item is clearly designated for communal use—bog-standard coffee creamer, for example—keep your hands off it. That specialty butterscotch-vanilla-maple coffee creamer someone else brought in? Don’t touch.
(Not) all you can eat: Which leads us to food in the fridge. Again, unless it’s obviously for everyone—leftover birthday cake, or the remains of the lunch served at yesterday’s planning workshop—treat it as if it’s radioactive.
Hazardous to your health: Which in turn leads us to those mystery containers that lurk in the back of break room fridges, containing … well, it’s impossible to tell under all that mould. If the shrimp fried rice had clearly been purchased when Obama was still president, no one would have objected to the thief throwing it out. If you bring it to the office and don’t eat it, take it away before it starts moving on its own.
Micro-management: If you use the microwave to reheat something, give the interior a wipe down with a clean damp cloth when you’re done. Few things are more off-putting than opening the microwave door and finding the insides copiously speckled with the rock-hard, unidentifiable splatters from countless previous users.
Your mom doesn’t work here: If there’s a dishwasher, use it; if not, there’s the sink. Do not simply dump your crockery and utensils in or beside the sink and assume someone else will take care of it. Someone probably will, but they will resent you with the red-hot heat of a thousand suns.
All of this is common sense, but I suspect anyone who works in a place with a break room is nodding her or his head in recognition. And if you steal someone’s shrimp fried rice, at least have the decency to eat it.
editorial@accjournal.ca
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