Words and Thoughts: The Soup Cup Trilogy’s Thrilling Conclusion
Hello again, alleged readers! I am thrilled to report that my company has reverted back to the usual, two ladle-full soup cups in the cafeteria. After what I perceive to be about seven(ish) epochs, or probably at least a couple dozen “How Bizarres” by OMC, the nightmare has ended. No longer will I be forced to pour two ladles of soup into containers that only hold slightly under one and three quarters ladles. No longer will French Onion Clam Chowder Twist (that’s what I call the combination when I want to pretend the soup is soft serve ice cream) overflow and smear onto just about every surface between the cafeteria and my desk. No longer will the worst thing that’s ever occurred in the history of occurrences occur. I’m pretty sure this is how people feel after they see Dave Matthews: relieved that the ordeal is over.
However, just like when somebody parks their lifted truck across three parking spots, the valve stems aren’t going to gnaw themselves off those offroad tires… sometimes resolution needs a little assistance in order to come to fruition. To fru-it if you will. So too did the soup cup travesty not resolve completely of its own volition.
If you recall, Dottie ordered far too many of the far too small soup cups. Fortunately, I know exactly what desk, and more specifically what drawer, the keys to the supply closet that holds the soup cups are kept in, because I am always going through all of the drawers in every desk.
If we had any chance of running out of the horrendous soup cups before the Second Salt Lake Olympics, action needed to be taken.
Ain’t nobody likely ever said “That Stav Knudsenen is a real creature of action.” But maybe now they just might:
Even though I know where the desk, with the drawer, with the supply closet keys, is, I can’t just blatantly walk into the supply closet. That’d be very obvious, plus I was asked to stop going in there after they found out that’s where I was putting the 11 x 17 printouts of every email I’ve ever received. I needed a distraction, but it needed to be subtle. A real balance of distracting, but not super noticeable.
Right around lunchtime, I got up from my desk, put my bandit mask on, and ran out to my car. From my car I retrieved my full size Shop-Vac. I then sprinted from my car, back into work, dragging the Shop-Vac by the attachment hose behind me. Once inside, I beelined for the lunch room, plugged the Shop-Vac in, set it to “blow”, whipped the lid off one of the three very full soup kettles, stuck the attachment hose into said soup kettle, and turned the Shop-Vac on.
Soup: Everywhere.
Everyone: Subtly distracted (it’s not like I had three Shop-Vacs going; just one Shop-Vac).
Stav: In the supply closet.
No one: Noticing Stav in the supply closet.
376 remaining horribly undersized soup cups: Gone.
Unrelated, HR is letting me host an “Ottoman History and Cultural Celebration” at work next week because I was able to trick them into believing I know where Turkey is. There will be Jolly Ranchers cut into little pieces that I think then become Turkish Delights; and as a special bonus, a free fez hat for the first 376 attendees.
