The Grapes of Wrath

Not too long ago, it’s been three or four weeks now, I gave up on an old friend. That’s right, I no longer add granulated sugar to anything. That includes iced tea, coffee, etc. I’m trying to be healthier.

It’s been rough.

I’d been drinking glasses of water all day. Not my favorite beverage. But I was doing ok. I decided to mix it up a bit.

Suddenly I have a new appreciation for fruit juice. Go figure. After a few weeks of water, I had an apple juice and it was delicious!

So I decided to try some grape juice. I went to the store and picked up two 64-ounce bottles of Welch’s grape juice for $4.59 each. I had a coupon for $1 off when you buy two, so the actual price was $4.09 per bottle.

To stretch things further, I did some experimentation and decided that a ratio of half juice and half water was right for me. I don’t want to be buying a bottle every other day so I want to make this stuff last.

I kept one bottle at home and I took one to work. It is pasteurized and has to be refrigerated after opening. That means I had to keep a bottle in the work refrigerator.

My job doesn’t provide potable water (unless you count the toilet and/or sink) so I bring my own Klean Kanteen with water every day. And I was actually looking forward to enjoying a little grape juice to enliven my otherwise shitty day.

We all know by now how this turns out, right? If I actually dare to want something then that becomes The One Thing that will be denied to me. This is the way of things.

I went to work yesterday and there was my bottle of Welch’s grape juice, completely empty and sitting in the trash!

Out of that 64-ounce bottle I was able to actually drink about 8 ounces. Yes, for those keeping track, that works out to be about $4.09 for a glass of grape juice. What a deal!

As I sat there considering this dastardly turn of events, the boss got up, lumbered over to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of juice, took off the lid, and brought the wide-mouth opening up to his gaping maw. Gulp, gulp, gulp. Ugh, what a sickening sound.

I turned to myself and said, “I dare say, Watson. We have cracked the case!”

This was worth pursuing. I couldn’t help myself. “Say, boss,” I said as casually as possible. “Did you also drink from the bottle of grape juice that was in there?”

He wouldn’t answer the question. How telling.

Then he said, “Oh, was that yours?”

“Yes. It was.” Emphasis on the was. Rest in peace, my dear bottle of grape juice.


“Oh, I didn’t know who’s that was.”

Excuse me??? What the fuck?????? You unimaginable bastard!

You didn’t know who the grape juice belonged to, therefore you drank it. I see.

You motherfucker.

Words fail me at a time like this. Seriously. What can you possibly say to that?

“Simple logic, Captain. When ownership of the grape juice is indeterminate, logic suggests you drink it anyway.”


So yeah, I wasn’t really planning to talk about my new job quite so soon, but forces have allied against me. There are usually pros and cons associated with most any decision, and switching jobs was no exception. But I still don’t know, even after a month on the new job, if I’m in the frying pan or in the fire. Either way, one thing is certain. I’m fucking cooked. But more on that later.

Boy I just can’t wait to go to work today.

10 responses

  1. That is why I write my name on everything that goes into the work fridge. After having lived in a sorority house with 12 women, having designated cupboards isn’t enough to keep greedy hands out of your stuff. I put my name on my sodas, my lunch… anything that goes in that fridge. No name makes it community.


    1. Or, you can take this route. It’s pretty effective.
      Amy's Hot Sauce
      (Photo taken from outside of work refrigerator.)


    2. Yep, I need a work Sharpie!


  2. Death to food and beverage thieves. WTF

    That pisses me off FOR YOU.

    Maybe leave a note on each container stating you’ve purposefully spit in it. “This juice belongs to SFA. I have purposefully spat in it to mark my territory.”

    He prolly doesn’t care, most guys don’t but you never know. Might find another note attached, “Me, too? Does it taste better now?”

    If I were you, it’s pasteurized. Hide it (even open) under your desk. I’ve done that, even with grape juice but I’ll drink it within 3 days. Also, if you’re anywhere near where I live, it’s NOW cool enough to leave in your car.


    1. I think I had some juice after he swigged out of it, too. Aaeeeeeiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeee!

      I’m now contaminated. Nice knowin’ y’all.

      “I spat in it.”

      I love that. Next great t-shirt idea, methinks!

      “Dear Boss, you have been deprecated. Have a nice day.”


  3. Ugh. And of course, no offer of compensation or replacement for said juice steal-age, either.

    I like the “spat in it” technique!

    Or you could label it “Medical sample – Do Not Drink!”
    Let them think you’ve got some kind of horrible disease that needs samples brought from home and refrigerated until you can get back to the doc.


  4. This type of BS makes me see red. We used to have a guy in our office who would eat random packed lunches that were in the breakroom fridge. The bastard. He could well afford to purchase his own lunch, too.
    No advice for this situation, but tons of sympathy.


  5. Un-friggin-believable! I am stunned by people’s (your boss in particular) lack of manners and consideration! ASS.

    😦 (how do you make an ANGRY-tongue-sticking-out Emoticon?)



  6. K, here’s an update. I don’t want to give my new boss too bad of an image. πŸ™‚

    The next day I got to work and a brand new unopened bottle of the correct type (no sugar added) was sitting on my desk. And in my cabinet I found a family size bag of potato chips.

    He also drinks out of a cup now!

    Although I’m still not sure if I can survive my new job (more on that later) I can already tell that my new boss has some very big differences with my last boss. He’s thoughtful, he listens, and he’s actually a very nice guy. That said, he’s still a boss, but at least in the boss department my life has improved immeasurably.

    I still don’t get why he drank the juice went he knew it wasn’t his. πŸ™‚


Bringeth forth thy pith and vinegar

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: