Work Daze by Bob Goldman

If you're the type of negative person who is positive that only bad things can happen at work, here's the confirmation you've been expecting. No longer will you have to fear the topless shenanigans of human resources department drones gone wild, nor worry that IT nerds will TP your cubical because you don't regularly floss between your laptop keys.

No, friends, the greatest risk to your health and happiness at work is lurking silently in the cozy confines of the company coffee room, masquerading as a refuge for egg salad sandwiches and broccoli-berry Snapple — that demonic, deadly, so-close-to detonation time bomb — the office mini fridge.

Lest you think I'm off my medications — again — consider this news article from The San Jose (Calif.) Mercury News: "Stench from rotten refrigerator sickens 28; San Jose office evacuated."

The disaster struck May 12 at an AT&T call center in North San Jose. When the dust had settled, and the stink had dispersed, 50 firefighters and 18 emergency vehicles had raced to the scene; 325 AT&T employees had been evacuated; and seven people were in ambulances on the way to the hospital. The lucky seven "were vomiting or complaining of nausea."

For all of us who work in a communal environment, the lurking horror that is the office refrigerator is well known. The problem is not just that people fill the thing with noxious food choices, like liverwurst and onions and anchovy paste and Gorgonzola cheese. That's just your sandwich. The real trouble starts when people decide to abandon the lunch they brought with them, leaving it to ripen, rot and fester as days, weeks and months go by.

(Though no one food group has been indicted, you can almost visualize a television special on refrigerator crime that would combine "Law & Order" with The Food Network. I can even hear the introduction: "In the culinary justice system, the people are represented by two separate yet equally important chefs: Rachel Ray, who investigates office refrigerator stench, and Emeril Lagasse, who prosciuttos the offenders. These are their stories."

Of course, we just can't blame a few thoughtless employees.

According to the news report, it was a thoughtful employee who "decided to remove the mess to a conference room and scour the fridge with a cleaning fluid similar to 409 or Lysol. Personally, I'm surprised that the decaying foods lasted long enough in the conference room to be a problem. With a workplace full of scavengers and mooches, anything even vaguely resembling food is usually snatched up in seconds.

Compounding this science experiment gone wrong, "another employee sprayed a different chemical cleaner into the air, assuming it would temper the scent."

"And that," according Captain Barry Stallard of the San Jose Fire Department, "was when the party started."

I suppose I could conclude this sermonette by inviting you to join me in pledging to clean out the office refrigerator at least once a decade, but it strikes me that the real story here is how you could turn a Kenmore liability into an Amana asset. For example, why not get some intimidation points by packing your lunch in one of those signature blue bags from Tiffany's? Or wave your gourmet flag with a doggy bag from Olive Garden.

If you can't impress with the container that carries your lunch, leverage the ingredients. Bring in ramekins of foie gras and Scottish salmon to suggest that you're on the fast track, salarywise. Bring kimchee and natto to show that you are open to a posting in Asia. Or, if you'd rather go to Norway, stuff your Elvis lunch box with reindeer jerky before leaving it to metastasize in the company of your co-workers' tuna fish. Or demonstrate your commitment to fitness by stocking the fridge with your steroids, or prove that you are a party person by filling the ice trays with guacamole.

If you should be sufficiently unfortunate to have a health nut for your manager, a container of alfalfa sprouts should be your contribution to the crowded refrigerator. Explain that it goes really well with the organic mushrooms you're growing in your bottom desk drawer.

Yes, it takes a little work and preparation, but by adjusting your daily deposit in the office refrigerator. you can boost your career to a point where you can afford to eat lunch out. And. if all else fails, you can always grab a gallon or two of Lysol and evacuate the building.

Bob Goldman has been an advertising executive at a Fortune 500 company in the San Francisco Bay Area. He offers a virtual shoulder to cry on at bob@funnybusiness.com. To find out more about Bob Goldman and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.

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