As soon as I pulled in the parking lot today, I knew something was different.
For a Friday, the lot was packed. Flex time officially kicked in to gear back in May - - this lot is usually a graveyard this time of year.
The lot hasn't been this full since Christmas bonuses were passed out the second Friday in December.
The minions filed through the gate in a sea of XXL Hawks' Jerseys with looks of absolute glee in their eyes.
As I fumbled for my key card, the lady in front of me held the door, caught my eye, and offered a broad smile along with a delightful greeting, "HAPPY DONUT DAY!!"
And, there it was.
Cue the streamers, banners, and follow the signs to the break room - the CEO popped for donuts today - donuts for EVERYONE. EVERY.SINGLE.ONE.
Enter Betty Bitch-A-Lot.
Betty comes in every morning with her winning constipated smile and general disdain for most of the folks that work in the Café at this particular unit.
Betty tolerates three and the trio I like to refer to as "The Triple Threat".
Dumb, Dumb, and Dumber are wrapped around Betty's finger - she pulls their strings like a errant kite in March.
Gerty at the Grill adds extra ham and cheese to her eggs - Chatty Cathy at the register only charges her for two scrambled - and Dipshit McGee, the gal charged with making sure this shit doesn't happen - does what she does best - puts on her blinders.
Betty has roots in HR...but her heart definitely pumps for the Social Committee.
Today is Donut Day, and things are different.
Betty assumes her position at the counter and Cookie asks her if she'd like her usual.
She shakes her head no and motions toward the grill with her eyes. She replies she is still undecided.
Cookie from the back kitchen is at the grill heating up a sausage patty for her breakfast sandwich, while Gerty the Grill Cook is having a smoke out back.
Meanwhile, I am sitting at the counter working on menus and orders, pretending like I'm minding my own business while I listen to this entire back-and-forth go down.
Once Cookie finishes and heads back for her break, Gerty returns and Betty comes to life again.
"Happy Donut Day Gerty! I'll have my usual."
Gerty rolls her eyes. "Yeah, for you guys. Not us. No one ever brings us donuts...or pizza...or bagels...or anything - we work in the cafeteria."
Betty had to come in early - meeting the donut man and setting up the banners and signs are all duties outlined in her "Social-Club-President-Handbook".
Betty assures Gerty that she's one step ahead. "I grabbed three extra - they're at my desk". She continued to explain, "I just got one for you, Chatty Cathy and Dip Shit."
Gerty thanks Betty. "Oh, wow! Thanks. And, Dip Shit is off today."
Betty assures Gerty she'll keep Dip Shit's safe until tomorrow, but definitely wants Gerty to let Chatty C know...she puts her finger in front of her mouth and whispers, "but keep it quiet - otherwise Dishpan Dan and Stock-Em-Up Stewie will find out".
And - to reiterate - I am still.sitting.at.the.counter. Unnoticed. Full of wonder.
I wonder, who does this? What forty-something-year-old woman purposefully excludes other adults from a celebration?
There are over five hundred employees in the company - with a break room the size of a basketball court - currently housing forty-two dozen goddamn donuts - minus the three currently sitting on Betty's desk.
What the hell is three more?
But Betty is a bitch like that.
Gerty hands the eggs loaded with over a pound of ham and cheese, and says "I'll be down on my second break, thanks again."
As Betty Bitch-A-Lot turns to leave, I speak.
"HAPPY DONUT DAY!"
She seems really surprised to see me sitting there.
I wink, put my finger to my lips and whisper "mums the word, Betty".
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