Dear Office Microwave Offenders,
Fish is delicious, you say. And it’s heart-healthy.
Congrats on your superior choices. Please live to be 105.
However, don’t expect to reach that ripe, old age with your friends by your side if you insist on stinking us out of the office every day. After all, we survived your Pasta Alfredo Armageddon last Tuesday, despite your attempts to choke us all with the fumes of your 4-cheese sauce. (Make that four kinds of old, rancid cheese, wrapped in dirty gym socks.) But how much more can we take?
I don’t care what you microwave in the privacy of your own home amongst consenting adults. But the office microwave is hallowed ground. Thou shalt not defile it with anything that smells like the following:
1. A sewage treatment facility
2. The county garbage dump on a hot summer day
3. Vomit
4. Davy Jones’s Locker
5. Any combination of the above
This isn’t rocket science: if you make my cubicle smell like the armpit of a sweaty gorilla with your Chicken Feta Surprise, I will be sharpening my pencil to put your name on my List.
Far be it from me to interfere with your passion for foods cloaked in noxious gases. I am merely suggesting that microwaving popcorn on high and WALKING AWAY will end in tears. For me. As I gasp for breath.
And won’t you feel guilty, stumbling across my dead body, when you come over to ask me about that thing you wanted done yesterday?
My guess is you’ll feel a little sick… and disgusted. I plan to be a very stinky corpse—much like your 3-day-old trout smothered in caper sauce.
And that will be my ultimate revenge.
Sincerely,
RJ
Strongly Worded Letters 