at Pediatric Services of America (the company on which Office Space must have based its story, or maybe they’re all like that?) it was birthday cake. occasionally the intensely overburdened (I’m not being sarcastic here) executive assistant would bake a couple dozen cookies for the office. all day you’d here, “did you get some of those cookies?” and “I heard her sister Betty gave her the recipe? oh yeah, I heard it was Sue’s.”

in grad school of course it was anything and everything. often bread and cheese, tea and/or coffee. anything to keep us from grumbling (not that it ever did). we talked about free food like it was Atlantis, sometimes even going to far as to map out quests, go on undercover secret missions into foreign territory, create complex networking systems through which news of free foodstuffs traveled.

here, at the library, it’s danish. a meeting was called, inviting one person from each department to come be informed of new policies and then in turn inform their most immediate colleagues. the meeting was called, but the meeting callers forgot to supply the requisite danish. this happened three days ago, and anytime a person comes into the office, management’s negligence re: the danish has been remarked upon. people have to eat, they say. its the least they could do, they say. when I raised my eyebrows my coworker N. said, a danish isn’t much, but it’s something. I worked here ten years and they didn’t even send a card.