I used to work as the assistant editor of a window treatment trade magazine. One day "Lisa," one of the advertising sales girls, barged into my cubicle.
"Hey Shannon, I made cookies. Do you want one?"
I didn't want one. "Okay," I said.
"They're pretty stale," she said, once I had one in hand. "They've been in my refrigerator for about a week, but I figured I'd just bring them in to work!"
This seemed wrong to me, but she probably had a point. I am frequently overcome with a sense of awe when I look at the quality and condition of the "treats" people bring in to my job, and am blown away by the speed at which they disappear. Congealed doughnuts from the Cub Foods bakery? Why not! Three-day-old banana bread from the United Way potluck? Don't mind if I do!
On the first day at my current job, my manager marked the festive occasion with a box of pastries. Since it was day one, I felt obligated to choke one down. However, just a couple days later, I was summoned to a conference room to celebrate a coworker's birthday. I declined the slice of cake. "Kathy," my manager, looked me up and down. "God, Shannon, trying to make the rest of us look bad? A little sugar wouldn't kill you!" I held my ground (but I think I've paid the price by becoming the object of her fashion scorn).
I guess what I'm saying is, you usually have to give in, or risk getting unwanted attention for being a "vegan" or "anorexic."
But in the case of Lisa's stale cookies, I thought it was safe to secretly decline. I waited until she was back at her desk, and then silently opened a desk drawer and placed the cookie inside. I knew I couldn't just throw the cookie in the basket under my desk--Lisa was the type who might actually check your garbage when you were out at lunch.
(I mean, this was the girl who, when her boyfriend--a fellow coworker at the magazine--refused to buy her a Christmas present [not forgot, refused], marched around the office, telling everyone about how she had been done wrong and encouraging all of us to hassle him about it. If my boyfriend refused to buy me a Christmas present, I'd be mortified--or more likely, would probably just reason that I didn't really deserve a present.)
So I was taking precautions. I figured that when she left for lunch I could sneak the cookie back to the break room and bury it in the communal trash can.
Then I overheard Lisa loudly explaining to a coworker how our desk drawers are actually removable. This coworker was switching desks, and Lisa was insisting that she didn't need to empty her desk drawers--she could simply pull them out and walk them over to the new desk!
A struggle ensued on the other side of the fabric walls as Lisa tried to demonstrate. "I don't think the drawers are meant to come out," said the coworker.
"No, they do!" said Lisa. "I know they do at Shannon's desk."
Before I could act, Lisa was back at my desk, frantically yanking away at my desk drawer--the one hiding her cookie--the cookie I refused to eat. She suddenly stopped yanking when she saw the cookie. She looked at me, first with confusion, then with something more like annoyance or low-grade hate. She shut the drawer and walked away.
Did I do wrong? Should I have choked the cookie down, knowing that somehow--Lisa being who she was--she would find out if I didn't consume it?
I don't think so. She wasn't my manager, so I wasn't obligated to appease her, and we were never going to be friends.
