In case you were wondering – and it’s written all over your face, frankly – I’m here to tell you that the 47th floor, while a warm and friendly place brimming with intelligent and attractive people, smells of toast.
If you’ll recall, I recently moved from the 48th floor – where one is greeted with a comfy terrycloth robe and a bottle of prescription mood-enhancers at the elevator doors – to the 47th floor, where, apparently, one is greeted with the smell of toast.
“That’s not true,” Claudia said, when confronted with my toast suspicions. “Some days it also smells like bagels.”
She’s right, that Claudia. Some days it smells of both toast and bagels.
We’s versatile that way.
And in yet another case of “in case you were wondering”, the 47th Floor Fridge is everything it was rumored to be. So far, I’ve spotted a sandwich with the label “Happy Easter, Darling!” and a cheese that, with every opening of the refrigerator door, appears to be inching its way toward freedom.
I both cheer for and against that bit of cheese.
One never knows, when there’s a move within a company. Whether it’s to another floor, another department, to leave what we have come to refer, almost thoughtlessly, as our “comfort zone” is a leap of faith. Will I have any friends? Will someone from the 48th floor come down and steal the ceramic cup I stole from them? Will there be the smell of toast, and if so, what kind of toast?
So far, so good. I still have my stolen mug, many humorous words have been exchanged amongst a new set of humorous co-workers, and I have a date with the cheese this Friday night.
The whole experience? Well so far, it’s gouda for me.
About Bob Dylan
5 days ago
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22 comments:
I have always felt that the key to fitting into a new neighborhood (if you will) lies within ourselves. You will naturally gravitate toward those most like yourself (in some varying degree of weirdness, I suspect) by the often ignored aura interaction phenomena.
Good luck with that cheese. And keep the cup hidden for a month. By then, whoever you stole it from will have given up and brought in a replacement.
By the way, was there a year mentioned on that "Happy Easter" sandwich?
The cheese's fate is to stand alone...don't mess with fate. Awesome pun by the way.
Bacon. The correct morning smell at any business on any floor should be bacon.
Douglas, no year mentioned on the Happy Easter sandwich, but I heard the meat is petitioning for citizenship.
shadesofgray, I spent some time considering the "cheese stands alone" aspect. :-)
Kreg, bacon. Wonder if they have that in a convenient spray?
At least your not forced to mingle with those cow tippers on 46.
if given carte blanche which floor would you move to?
Being as i am in the UK and not in London, I would be lucky to make it to a third floor ever.
I ask, wondering if there is a floor that has a particularly impressive reputation.
You wrote that ENTIRE post just to get to the cheese joke at the end. I feel exploited and manipulated. You toyed with me like a cat with a dead moose. I loved it but I hope they steal your stolen mug back. Hey, sometimes the karma bill comes due.
Pardon my ignorance but what's a cootie?
Sounds a bit rude to me!
Much better a smell of toast than a smell of turds though! I used to work on the 11th floor of my building and everyone called it "The Dungeon" as it hadn't seen new paint since about 1960 (it looked like and it always smelled like a giant crotch. True!
As for that cheese? It wanted it's fr-EDAM. Ha.
Icky: cow tippers. :-)
Molly, the execs are on 48, but they're also on 47. Honestly, there's no real difference, but I like to imagine executive/support staff skirmishes.
Cal, I swear I did not! :-) Anyway, cheese jokes are pretty common here in the great white north. Minnesota and Wisconsin are pretty well known for their massive cheese and beer consumption; and in a case of you've-got-your-chocolate-in-my-peanutbutter-ism, we've even got Beer Cheese Soup, served with popcorn afloat, which is actually quite delish.
Lesley, cooties ARE rude and are what the "other" most likely has, if you catch my meaning. I do believe that real "cooties" are actually referred to as "nits", aka tick eggs/larvae or something. I had been teasing earlier, prior to my move, that absolutely everyone knows that the people on 47 have cooties.
Vegetable Assassin, now THAT has earned itself a giant "HA!" in my book. Fr-EDAM. :-) Why I oughta...
Ah edam, the cheese that's made backwards! :¬)
xxx
You are just a DELIGHTFUL writer! I can't tell you how much I'm enjoying reading your work! Please don't stop, I need the laughs!!
That's a Gouda one indeed.
I'd be freaked out to work anywhere above the third floor... no matter how well stocked the fridge is.
Enjoy your gouda.
I used to work in an office above a greasy spoon cafe. You seriously don't want an office smelling of bacon. True enough, at first it works like the toast smell and makes you feel hungry and craving a full English breakfast. By 2pm on day two it starts to cloy a bit.
And the fried bread smell...
Gouda for you? Don't you have any cheddar jokes than that? {sigh...}
what type of cheese do you date? I'm guessing you are both ordering wine.
Anyway you slice it - you'll have a good time.
You witty, witty girl! I almost snorted my yogurt..... and I haven't tried that since the '70s.
Indeed, what kind of toast? Edam if I know! (Has somebody already said that?)
one less flight of stairs....(for escaping) and getting younger than older...kinda a win/win...or could be just me and the twisted way I view it..either way gouda for you
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