Cheese & Ranch-Flavored Shame

Sunday July 19th, 2009.

I am afraid to open a bag of chips.

In a cubicle. No more than seven people in the room...and I fear the repercussions.

What if it's loud? Maybe someone is as cranky as I today because they are working in a basement on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon and all it will take is one jackass opening a loud-ass bag of chips to set them off.

Even worse...what if it's a tricky bitch and it rips in half, ejecting chips onto the call floor. Then, I'd roll over the chips, crushing them under the wheels of my chair, grinding them into the carpet. In my rush to stand up, I'd step on a few more with my heels. A couple people would laugh (albeit at me), a couple more would look on in confusion and pity. My supervisor would most likely have a similar reaction to when his six-year old daughter spills milk. The person or, heaven forbid, people who are in the same mood as myself may throw things at me. Not with an intent to kill, just bruise and scar emotionally.

Then, I suppose I'd only have two options:

Break down crying. Throw the chips while hysterically screaming obscenities and babbling about "the chip massacre of 2009" with the hope of being sent home early...or fired.

Or, I could clean up the mess apologetically and return to my desk of cheese and ranch-flavored shame. Later, I'd have to refresh my resume and turn in my two weeks notice.

Either way, opening this bag of chips will cost me my dignity, sanity and job. Not to mention cool points...

Damn, these chips are good.