I know I have a reputation for being a stingy bastard with my food, just ask Burger. If I want to share food, I will share it. Let me offer the food to you. It is when you walk in and start taking without asking that I get annoyed.
(And again, for the record, Otto had the hot pockets; I had the $5 cordon bleus.)
Yesterday morning I was severely annoyed by the number of coworkers who entered my office, saw my cinnamon rolls and ask what i brought them for breakfast. NOTHING. You are a grown adult. You are not my child; it is not my responsibility to see that you are fed.
I have reverted to the high school lunch protection plan. (Bruce will remember it best as the Isolationist method.) It's when you place one arm around your tray like a fence, hover your head 6 inches above your food and shovel it quickly, hoping no one will notice what yummy treat you are devouring.
The things I must do to protect my food from these scavengers, looters and pilferers of edible treasures.
