Is Nothing Sacred?

For the last several months, I've been diligently bringing my lunch from home so as to avoid spending ridiculous sums of money in Downtown Crossing (a.k.a. "Dirty Crossing") on low-quality, crappy food. It's not always easy or convenient to lug my backpack into the office when it's filled with a giant vat of yogurt, bananas, apples, English muffins, oatmeal, cans of soup, etc., but I do it anyway. I make the effort to bring in nutritious, delicious snacks for a reason: SO I CAN EAT THEM. ME. ONLY ME.

So I'm sitting at my desk this morning and I hear my boss in the kitchen, asking, "Whose fruit is this?" I'm thinking, oh, fantastic, she wants a banana. That's fine. Eat my bananas. Whatever. Jerk.

NO. She doesn't want my banana. She wants to decorate the foyer with my lunch. DECORATE. She skillfully arranged all of MY fruit on a stupid little platter and set it in the foyer. For everyone to admire and consume.

I chuckled and said, "If people eat my fruit, I'm going to be angry." She said, "Feel free to eat it."

Feel free to eat it? My fruit? Feel free to eat my own fruit? That I bought? Huh. Well, I sure will. Thanks for the advice.