The Sweet Tooth

There is a tradition here that every full-time employee must, on the anniversary of his or her hire date, bring in a pound of candy for each year they've worked here. The de facto candy of choice is M&Ms.

I can't resist M&Ms.

Last week, two people on my team celebrated their five and seven year anniversaries within two days of each other. That's twelve pounds of candy-coated chocolate that melts in my arteries, not in my hands, and sure enough I'm the only lackwit on my entire floor with the compulsion to eat gobs and gobs of M&Ms wheresoever they happen to be put out for consumption.

I was going to go to the gym on Monday, but I ended up eating a pound of M&Ms and decided to go straight home to nurse the nauseous feeling in my gut instead. On Tuesday, my rep came by and gave me a pack of Skittles which, though not chocolate per se, was still round little candies wrapped in another kind of candy. I have very patiently resisted tearing into them. Probably because there isn't TWELVE POUNDS of them.

This week has been rough. Picture Scrooge McDuck in his money bin. Only instead of money, it's M&Ms. And instead of Scrooge McDuck, it's a bald guy gripping his chest and complaining about how his left arm feels like it's on fire.