I know it’s Friday, which is usually a favorable day of the week, but it was also my last day of work before vacation.
You know how such days often go. Feces and fans.
Of course, my bar of low expectations had been set by previous positions that weren’t exactly what I’d classify as “dream jobs”.
Nevertheless, I didn’t turn all Pip today and suddenly have great expectations (Yes, that is a Charles Dickens reference in the middle of this blog post. Deal with it!).
Much to my surprise, not only did I not find a total $%^& show waiting for me, but I also discovered not one, but two chocolate cakes.
That’s right, Modern Philosophers. Two chocolate cakes.
It goes without saying that my new job is much different from any other I’ve had in a very long time.
Some people judge a job by the salary, the benefits, or the challenge it offers.
I choose to utilize a much simpler system.
So, like I was saying, before I was interrupted by my own Deep Thoughts, there were two cakes waiting when I arrived in the office this morning.
It was someone’s last day, and we were going to discuss how that made us feel over chocolate cake.
One cake was store bought. The other was homemade.
Both looked like I could devour them in about ten minutes if I did a little stretching and really set my mind to it.
Sounds like an awesome Friday, right?
But it gets even better.
My colleague who made the second cake informed me that it had filling.
Want to guess what was inside?
Too late. I’m going to tell you.
Peanut butter. My absolute favorite thing in the world to pair with chocolate.
Don’t worry. I didn’t eat both cakes. I only had some of the gift from heaven, you know, the chocolate cake with the peanut butter filling.
If I hadn’t known for a fact that my coworker had stayed up late baking it, I would have sworn that the dessert was given to us by angels.
Perhaps the best part of today’s menu? Our resident baker declared that her tasty treat was a breakfast cake, and we needed to dig in immediately.
Nothing gets the work day going better than some nine o’clock breakfast cake.
If you don’t believe me, then it’s your loss. Breakfast cake is a thing, and it would be pasted snack dab in the middle of my vision board if I had one.
For the record there’s no such thing as too much (or “two much” when you’re going for the witty wordplay!) cake. Cake exists in increments of “not enough”, “just the right amount”, and “is there any more”?
How many chocolate cakes did you have at work today?