Words and Thoughts: Kerosene Soup, The Threats We Make
Hello again, alleged readers! I bring news today from the soup front. The last fax I sent you all found us all wallowing through perhaps the lowest morale anyone ever, anywhere, at any time, has ever experienced. For my company had changed the soup bowls from bowls that hold two ladles of soup, to bowls that hold just under one and three quarter ladles of soup. I don’t know firsthand how bad it was during the great depression, but I can tell you I was greatly depressed. Everyone was. It was a greater depression.
Yet that is all old information, and I’ve promised you, dear alleged readers, news: It appears that the transition from perfect soup bowls to horrendous soup bowls was temporary. I received a response from HR to one of the 26 emails (containing various “levels” of threats) I’ve sent on the matter. Their response was to my 17th most threatening email, by the way. Once I got past all the legal mumbo jumbo and their outlandish rules about not being allowed to “make ‘soup retribution Molotov cocktails’ at my desk” and so on and such, I got to the part where they claimed to have announced the temporary change in the last company newsletter:
“To support our company’s Environmental Awareness Week, we will be changing some of our cafeteria packaging to more earth friendly options this week.”
Excuse me, but that gives me no actionable information! This is like writing a report on The Challenger Shuttle and the only note you have at T+ 72 seconds is “moderate O-ring failure”.
On one hand, my relief that we’re going to be rid of these God-forsaken 1.75-ladle disasters soon is immeasurable. On the other, my frustration that these God-forsaken 1.75-ladle tragedies were ever permitted to see the light of day is… also immeasurable. The amount of kerosene at my desk not put into Molotov bottles yet is very measurable: Four and a half gallons.
It would also appear that Dottie down in the cafeteria ordered too many of the 1.75-ladle travesties, and we’re not going to be out of them for like another two weeks. My offer to donate my kerosene to “burn the lot and send the 1.75-ladle demons back to the disgusting hellscape from whence they came” was flatly rejected by HR.
So here we sit, floating in soup purgatory like a noodle in a day-old batch of chicken soup. The atrocity is ongoing for like another two weeks. Resolution promised, but not yet within reach. Certainly Ol’ Stav can’t be expected to work under these conditions. As such, I’m not working. Perhaps the void caused by my suddenly absent contributions of immense value will be the motivation Dottie needs to cast off the yoke of her oppressive purchasing requirements, destroy the unholy soup cups from the land of things that are not at all good, and restore order and justice to a chaotic universe.
Or not. Whatever. I’ll be back in touch with all of you after we’re back to the normal two-ladle soup cups!
Love,
Stav
