Friday, February 27, 2009

Attention Intern, Part 3

I wrote this one to two female interns who were making booked goods for the office. And never left any for the nightshift. Be wary: you forget to bring me a cupcake, words will fly...

TO: Betty Crocker, Aunt Jemima, Martha Stewart, Rachel Ray and Every Other Female Chef Cliché I Can Think Of
DATE: 06/27/2008

It has come to this analyst’s attention that baked goods are making their way into this office and subsequently into the mouth and stomach of Analyst ******* ****. I will not act as though I understand the complexities, procedures, or downright sorcery involved in creating such sugary chicanery; however, what I will protest is the utter alienation the analysts on the night shift must endure.

Sure, you have no idea who we are and the likelihood that we will ever cross paths is an unlikely likelihood. This does not change the fact that some people enjoy an oatmeal raisin cookie with a tall glass of 1% milk – whole too thick; skim too thin. I am not asking for a personalized chocolate layer cake with caramelized frosting that spells out how awesome I am (although that would be sweet – both figuratively and literally). I only ask that you take those you may never see into consideration whilst preparing a batch of Pecan Sandies or pink-frosted cupcakes.

Truth be told, I’m not even terribly partial to the sweets. I just enjoy receiving pastries, brownies, cookies, Pixie Stix, ice cream, Jolly Ranchers, blueberry muffins, Tootsie Rolls, sponge cakes, Reeses’ Peanut Butter Cups, and other forms of sweet deliciousness for absolutely no reason at all. No, it’s not the treats that brighten my day; it’s the gesture. I just like to know that someone thinks I’m important enough to get a Klondike Bar every now and then (preferably on Thursdays).

Alright, I pretty much lost whatever point I was trying to make when I made mention of a Klondike Bar. I just started thinking of all the unspeakable things I would do for a Klondike Bar that the entire point of this memo was lost on me. In actuality, I’d rather not receive anything. In fact, keep stuffing all those high-glycemic delightfuls down Brandon’s throat (we have a nationally televised wrestling match in four weeks and I’d prefer he be in poor nutritional condition – if you could bring him in a basket of baked potatoes covered in heavy gravy, that would help too). Good day to you.

NOTE: There was a plate of brownies on my desk the next day. Powerful is the written word!



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