I’m at the company’s Hotdish Halloween Party. Everyone was supposed to bring a hotdish. I have not. I figured that everyone wouldn’t be able to eat a whole hotdish by themselves and thus there would be extra hotdish for the few folks who didn’t bring one. I was wrong about “a few folks” though, because it appears that I am the only one who didn’t bring one. There’s still plenty of food to go around, but being the one who didn’t bring anything is much worse than being one of three or four who didn’t bring anything.
“Where’s your hotdish?” This question is directed at me by the Executive Assistant to the CEO.
“I prepared it earlier but it tasted so bad I didn’t bring it,” I lie.
“I’m sure it tasted fine, you should’ve brought it.”
“I dunno, I gave it to my dog and even he refused to eat it.”
“A dog refusing a slightly unsavory hotdish?”
“Unheard of, I know.”
“Highly unlikely.”
“But not impossible.”
Uncomfortable with being singled out like this, I exit quietly. Work chit chat can be brutal enough. Add suspicion into the mix and I’ll be the first to admit that I can’t hang.