The Politics of the Office Candy Bowl
There is a woman in my of?ce who keeps a container of candy on her desk. Her of?cial title is Junior Account Executive but I think it's more likely that she's Satan's Chief Operating Officer.
We're not talking the bad kind of candy you buy in bulk: unknown brands, artificial ?avors, unusual colors. No, we're talking grade-A, blue ribbon, top drawer, varsity level candy: organic chocolate, locavore dried fruit, small-batch caramels. This, in an of?ce ?lled with women who are constantly on a diet. Every day we pass her desk like it's a toll booth.
Although she is the sweetest person imaginable, I treat her with the same level of affection that a calorie counter feels toward the bakery. Love. Need. Hate.
That doesn't, of course, keep me from hanging around her desk every day. "What a pretty necklace. Antique?" I ask while rooting around for the last square of chocolate. Or "Think it will rain later?" when I see her ?ll a plate with some home-baked delicacies. And "Wasn't that meeting ridiculous?" as I pluck two dried sugared pieces of pineapple for a mid-morning snack.
She pretends like we're best friends but I know better. She is toying with me. I try to resist. I bring a handful of almonds to ration during the day, drink lots of water, take deep breaths. But it is no use.
She is drawing me toward the dark side. I've never seen her snack on all that sugary goodness. And she's not the only one. Have you noticed that the people who keep candy jars on their desks are always the skinniest ones in the building? Not normal. Pay attention next time. And when you catch them smirking while you wipe chocolate from your face, don't say I didn't warn you.
But just in case you find you can't resist, you can burn serious calories cleaning your house. We recommend you use the natural formulas you'll find in Seventh Generation products.