An Open Letter to Anyone That Shares an Office Refrigerator
The office refrigerator has been full of old rotten food for approximately three months now. I visit it every once in a while in search of a bottle of water, only to be blasted in the face by the smell of a thousand elephant farts. It's located on the other side of the 3rd floor, where apparently, no craps are given. The situation is now at critical mass, with no viable solution in sight.
Everyone knows about it, and yet no one is willing to admit who the culprit behind the festering stench that fills the halls each time it is opened actually is. We joke about it in passing and then retreat to our own offices and close the door, never volunteering to clean it out. It's not our mess; it's someone else's.
It's always someone else's.
We avoid that refrigerator. Use one in another part of the building. Drink our sodas at room temperature, all just to avoid the putrid stench that lurks behind the white door, that no one is responsible for. Clearly.
Bandits must have come in the night to fill our fridge with old Taco Villa and take-out boxes. It certainly couldn't have been any of the fine people that work in this amazing establishment.
No! They would never leave an old box of lemon slices in there for weeks on end. No! They would never forget about their delicious Carne Guisada from lunch last May, tucked neatly in the back corner for this long. Never!
When does the madness end? Does someone that's never utilized the fridge for lunch, (i.e. me) need to find some rubber gloves and cleaner and take care of business? Or shall I continue on as the rest of us, eyes straight forward while passing it, whoever-smelt-it-dealt-it style?
Anybody selling a mini-fridge? Holler atcha girl.