Last Friday, something peculiar happened at the office. My lunch vanished. Now, I'm not talking about "forgotten in the fridge" vanished. I mean totally disappeared—like poof!—without a trace.
So, naturally, I decided to turn into a detective. My sandwich, lovingly crafted with smoked turkey, Swiss cheese, a slice of avocado, and some gourmet mustard, had to be somewhere. I started questioning my coworkers, casually of course.
"Hey, Steve," I asked the guy from accounting. "Seen any, uh… suspicious sandwiches around lately?"
Steve looked at me like I’d lost my mind. Strike one.
Then I went to Lisa in HR. I kept it subtle.
"Lisa, if you were a sandwich, where would you be?"
Lisa laughed nervously, scooting her chair away.
My third suspect was Bob. Bob is a big eater, and he’s always saying he forgets his lunch. I confronted him directly. "Bob, did you take my sandwich?"
Bob looked me dead in the eye and said, "I would never betray a sandwich's rightful owner." He was telling the truth. It was… convincing. Strike three.
By this point, I was starting to think the sandwich had just… evaporated.
Then, the mystery took a surprising twist. I went back to the fridge and spotted it. Hidden behind a gallon of expired milk and someone's forgotten pasta, there it was—my sandwich. Untouched, still wrapped in its glory.
Turns out, the only thief was my own terrible fridge organization skills.