Binge benefits

Other people might have proper jobs with actual career prospects and impressive fringe benefits. Where I work, we've got what I like to call "binge benefits" instead. My chocolate drawer (it sounds much better in German: Schokolade-Lade) serves as a kind of calorific watering hole for all members of my department (minus the boss) who like to gather in the relative privacy of my room in order to share the latest piece of office gossip while raiding the chocolate drawer. Admittedly, the task of refilling mainly falls upon me, but several colleagues have taken to "park" their goodies in said drawer, making me the honorary keeper of the communal sweet treasure. I take that responsibility very seriously although there's no need to defend it with guns or barbed wire as once something has made it into the cornucopia-drawer, it's common property and everyone's entitled to stop by and snack.

Apart from the sweets employees contribute themselves, we get lots of visitors who bring sweets or savoury treats from exotic places. In most cases, the contents are pretty vile but we fight for the beautiful tin or wooden boxes. Our security guard also buys me pastry twice a week. Every week. I keep telling him that he could have bought himself a yacht with all that money but he just shrugs and says that it's no big deal. The man's obviously on some mission to fatten me up (some more). And, no, I have not actually gained that much weight in the more than seven years I've worked here.

Purchase(s) of the day: None allowed (more or less) until next pay-day as I had to remit a hefty sum to inland revenue this morning.