Ah, yes. The office. Our homes away from home, like it or not.
There are many exciting things that happen in the office: bathroom stand offs, the stealing of lunches and other goodies from the community fridge, the co-workers who let their phones ring at volume 678, even though they seem to be the ones who never actually answer the mysterious ringing machine, those who return emails from the bottom up – asking stupid questions repeatedly until they get to the top and then think “hehehe oopsies! Guess I should have read the chain first!” makes them look un-stupid again. The least of my worries are the popcorn burners and tuna/fish eaters, as we have basically driven those people to dine in solitude after a few mishaps.
However, about 2 months ago, I noticed a strange phenomenon that I will refer to henceforth as soup o’clock. Every day at precisely 1:15, I hear the familiar patter of feet move toward the microwave, followed by a return to the desk with a napkin and a spoon. The soup lover then returns to the microwave, delighted to find that the liquid food has warmed itself and is ready to be ingested. As the feet pad back down the short hallway, I hear the familiar rattle of the spoon, and then cringe and I visualize the soup lover’s hand making it’s way toward the mouth.
And then it happens – Sluuuuuuuuurppppppp, Sluuurp, Slurp, Sluuuuurp, Slurp. <pause> Sluuuurp, slurp, sluurp.
I would put my headphones in during this wretched time, but it’s after lunch, so unless I have managed to escape to lunch time yoga, where I balance myself and tell my brain to wish good thoughts upon the bastardly soup slurper, I am stuck answering post-lunch questions. This is really my fault since any morning questions are met with eye daggers and gnashing of teeth, but really people, this is neither here nor there….
Every day… Every. Single. Blasted. Day. I listen to the slurp slurp slurp of the soup. Sometimes, I return from a late lunch, gleefully plopping into my chair in a soup-slurping-by-pass high, only to find the slurper has waited for me to return so I can share the joyfulness of soup and the magical air bubbling noises it makes.
Other days, I grin and bear it. Pretending I don’t notice the slurpfest and continuing to scream into my phone, battling the slurps for volume. But even then, even when I play nice, the soup slurper strikes again. For the soup slurper recently discovered…. yogurt. Which apparently must be loudly licked off the spoon and then smacked and gummed open-mouthed until the creamy substance is juuuuust right.
If you want to insert a lame TWSS joke - you probably also still think WINNING! is a cool phrase.
Now back on track, without the soup, I could find a way to deal with the yogurt. I really could. Mainly because I like yogurt. Particularly fage. Because a) I like saying FA-YEH, and b) because I like saying FA-YEH.
And also because I myself bring loud crunchy apples into the office which I’m sure annoy my cube mates as well. But SOUP? First of all, if you are eating soup anytime outside of the November- February window – you’re fucking weird. Soup is not meant to be enjoyed in July, people. It’s 110 degrees outside, who thinks to themselves “mmmm I could really go for a steaming bowl of chicken broth and meat that doesn’t even have to be refrigerated!”? Not I… not I.
Even if it IS 50 degrees in the office and I am hunkered down in my snuggie. IT’S NOT THE TIME FOR SOUP.
Secondly, WHO EATS SOUP BY ITSELF? Oh, I’m sorry, yogurt did accompany the soup, but seriousl., I can get on board with a soup & salad combo, a bread bowl, or tomato soup with grilled cheese – mmm… grilled cheese. But if you like soup by itself, I hate you. You’ll probably say something like, but what about the tomato soup at La Madeleine? Sooooo goood. Then I’ll say something like, I don’t eat at chain restaurants with you peons. Also, I prefer my tomato soup not made of lard.
What I really mean of course is that I can maybe have a cup of that, but then I’m done. Because I eat soup with SIDES of other stuff. Like the heart shaped sugar cookies they have there. And some lemonade.
Lastly, If you don’t know how to eat soup, drink it through a straw. A big straw, that can accept chunnks of meat, and vegetables, and would really hurt if I just so happened to walk by and shove your face into the straw and poke an eye out.
Anyway, have you guys noticed how cold it is outside?!
Good weather for wine… and I confess, soup.
Just please eat responsibly. Friends don’t let friends smack and slurp.