M's Hunger Strike

A grave injustice was cast upon M in the early hours of the morning, as he was ordered to stop harassing the receptionist and do some real work. Our Chinese takeout was scheduled for noon, but the lunchroom was short of paper plates. It was M's mission therefore to drive the company van a few blocks out to Walmart to pick up some Royal Chinet. That's right. Royal. I feel so haute monde.

Anyway. Unfortunately for M, it later emerged that the takeout joint had already supplied our requisite 11 plates complete with little plastic forks. His little field trip was a huge waste of time (not unlike his conversations).

So, like a 5 year old, M pouted through the lunch hour, refusing to touch his lunch. Most of his lunch hour was spent outside my office complaining about how much the company sucks, obviously fishing for sympathy. It fell on deaf ears. The Shanghai noodles I ordered especially for him went cold.