Wednesday, April 11, 2007
The Oatmeal Cake Shake
There are rare times, at work, when I stumble upon brilliance.
Tonight's incident does not involve any remarkable gain in efficiency, or any magnificent quantity of tickets completed, agents assisted, defects identified, or products supported.
It was late. I'd had my fill of coffee. But something was . . . lacking. So I grabbed my packet of oatmeal, took up my trusted Shriners' cup, and walked to the lunchroom. And there it was: the last piece of someone's birthday cake. Avoided by the rest of second shift because of its four and a half hours on the table, it was ready for me.
I ripped open the oatmeal and emptied it into the Shriner. Then I cut the piece of cake in half and dumped it on top of the oatmeal. I added a half-cup of steamed water from the coffee machine, mashed it all up with a fork, and took a taste.
Good. But that last half of the piece of cake was eyeing me hard.
Into the Shriner it sank. I mashed some more. Added another snoose of water: Perfection. The perfect nighttime snack.
I should patent this stuff. I can't say it was the best day at work. I was too busy to get anything done, which always makes the day feel a bit worthless. But it wasn't worthless after the Oatmeal Cake Shake. How many days can one say he created a new dessert? I should be on the Food Network.
Tonight's incident does not involve any remarkable gain in efficiency, or any magnificent quantity of tickets completed, agents assisted, defects identified, or products supported.
It was late. I'd had my fill of coffee. But something was . . . lacking. So I grabbed my packet of oatmeal, took up my trusted Shriners' cup, and walked to the lunchroom. And there it was: the last piece of someone's birthday cake. Avoided by the rest of second shift because of its four and a half hours on the table, it was ready for me.
I ripped open the oatmeal and emptied it into the Shriner. Then I cut the piece of cake in half and dumped it on top of the oatmeal. I added a half-cup of steamed water from the coffee machine, mashed it all up with a fork, and took a taste.
Good. But that last half of the piece of cake was eyeing me hard.
Into the Shriner it sank. I mashed some more. Added another snoose of water: Perfection. The perfect nighttime snack.
I should patent this stuff. I can't say it was the best day at work. I was too busy to get anything done, which always makes the day feel a bit worthless. But it wasn't worthless after the Oatmeal Cake Shake. How many days can one say he created a new dessert? I should be on the Food Network.
