Daily Archives: February 19th, 2011

The boss who ated my cookie

Image source: Wikipedia

It’s time for another lesson to be learned courtesy of the Unfortunate Cookie (TM).

The boss was in the mood for Chinese and he treated the office to lunch. That’s nice. After lunch, I broke my cookie open and extracted my fortune. Something diverted my attention from the table and I turned away for the briefest of moments…

I turned back.

What the hell?!? Where was my cookie?

Naturally I played it subtle and cool.

“Where the hell is my cookie,” I demanded.

The boss looked stunned. “You wanted that?”

I tried in vain to conceal a look that screamed idiot! “Yeah, I wanted that. It was my cookie.”

“Sorry,” he said. “One you leave the table it’s open season.”


“Just for the record,” I said, “it works like this. I always eat my fortune cookie. Always! For that matter, unless I say different, every bit of food that’s mine always remains mine until if and when I say otherwise. You got that?”

The boss remained the opposite of contrite. “Well,” he shrugged. “I guess we know the rules now.”

Who the fuck knew you needed a goddamn rule to protect your own damn food? Of course, this is the same guy who gulped down my grape juice because, and I quote, he “didn’t know who it belonged to.” And when I say gulped, yeah, right from the fucking bottle. I still shudder to this day when I think about how I poured myself a glass of his dribblins after that. I didn’t find out until it was too late!

Aaeeiieeeiiiieeeee! I think I begin to understand what the place where suicide bombers go to get their motivation must be like.

Luckily I had already snatched my fortune from my cookie before it was destined to re-enact a scene from Twenty Thousand Leagues Below the Sea or else it would have ended up in the bastard’s belly. He’s not exactly discriminating.

Life is a series of choices. Today yours are good ones.
–Fortune Cookie

Oh God. Another math fortune.

Let’s say I live to be 50 years old. (A long shot, I know.) That would be about 18,250 days. Now, according to my good friend the cookie, on one (and only one) of those days I’ll somehow make “good” choices. In other words, I’m smart about .005 percent of the time.

Will that one day of “good” choices be enough to turn things around? Hardly. No doubt they’ll be just enough to show me what I’m missing out on and drastically increase my misery.

About the only choice I made that day was not strangling my boss for eating my cookie, and I’m not so sure that was a good decision.

Thanks for the vote of confidence, cookie. Now that I think about it I’m glad you got what you deserved! Enjoy your reincarnation ride. Spoiler alert: You end up as boss poop.