The Great Cookie Thief

Or, I Heart My Boss, Part the Second

On Thursday last, there was some kind of meeting (hereafter referred to as "the meeting") at work, with attendant VIPs from the company's main facility in Connecticut. I was not invited to the meeting, which was fine with me, since I had no interest in sitting around in a freezing conference room listening to people yammer on about goodness knows what. I discovered that the VIPs warranted a catered lunch. Still no interest on my part, particularly as the catering was done by Quiznos (Note 1: Bleh. Note 2: Shouldn't there be an apostrophe in that name?), until I saw that they had brought along some very large COOKIES. I made up my mind, then and there, that even though I technically was not allowed to partake of the catered lunch, being not VIP enough to go to the meeting, I was going to get my hands on a cookie!

My boss, whom you have already met, so to speak, was in fact an invited attendee of the meeting, and so had the all-important right to at least one cookie. He happened to wander into the kitchen area while I was there. Aha! Target acquired. Scene set.

Me: [trying to look innocent] So, how many people are there in the meeting?
Him: [is no fool] Fewer people than there are cookies.
Drat! He must have noticed me eyeing them with ill-concealed lust.
Me: [giving up on the "innocent" ploy] You'll get me a cookie just in case, though, right?
Him: [smirks in amusement as he walks away]

Hmm. No good so far. Undeterred in my pursuit of cookies, I send him a quick e-mail: "You don't want your cookie, right?"
Several minutes later, he comes to my cubicle. "There are plenty of cookies. You should be fine."
"Should be isn't the same as absolutely will be." He sighs and shakes his head, and turns to go. "Oh, come on, please!" I beg. I have no shame when it comes to obtaining cookies, as you can see.
"Oh, I'll get you a cookie." He is either really irritated or just thinks the whole thing is funny.

True to his word, he comes back a bit later and presents me with a CHOCOLATE CHUNK COOKIE. I am transported to realms of bliss. A few minutes later, I send him another e-mail, vis: "It would be awesome if I could get TWO cookies. Can I make it my stretch goal?"

Then, a few minutes after that, the manager of the electrical group comes to my cubicle and hands me a CINNAMON SUGAR COOKIE. He had heard me asking for a cookie, and he has a medical reason why he couldn't eat his, so he brought it over for me. Sweetness!! In every sense of the word. When I next see my boss, I wear a smirk myself, and announce, "I achieved my stretch goal."

And then, and then, all the VIPs finished eating, and there were still cookies left, so all of us humble peons were given permission to glean from the corners of the fields, to make an entirely relevant biblical allusion. And so I got a THIRD cookie, this one a CHOCOLATE CHOCOLATE CHUNK COOKIE.

I send off yet another e-mail: "THREE cookies and counting!" Quick as a flash, he shoots back, "Now you're a collector!"

Yes, I collect cookies. In my mouth.