As I’ve probably mentioned by now, I work in the NHS. More specifically, I work in Communications, which is pretty much a mixture of PR, Journalism, Media Relations, Corporate Communications, Crisis Management…the list goes on.
It’s something I didn’t know much about when I left uni, but was lucky enough to get some work experience, and then an internship, and then an actual job! Jammy, amirite.
Over the last 2 years, I’ve learned a lot about the NHS, the public sector and the people who make the cogs turn.
But I’ve learned something else recently, and it’s that there’s someone in my office who is an avocado thief.
I discovered the majesty of the avocado earlier this year, when my sister made a bangin’ chicken salad that I couldn’t stop thinking about for days.
I may not have mentioned that I have Irritable Bowel Syndrome, which means that from time to time, without any warning, my stomach doesn’t play ball. So, I’ve switched my diet up to make it a bit easier on my tum, which has caused a significant influx of avocado into everything.
So, I’m in the office. It’s a Wednesday and I’m heading to the kitchen. I’d brought in a large avocado for lunch, half of which would be spread on toast, the other half of which would be chopped and eaten, all of which would be in my belly before the hour was up. I wrapped it up in cling film which, in case I didn’t fancy the whole thing, I could wrap the neglected half up and have it later.
I get to the kitchen and notice someone’s salad on the side, in an uncovered Tupperware box. I also notice that there’s avocado in it. I think “Aha! Great minds think alike, anonymous salad-eater!” I proceed to the fridge and retrieve my cling-film clad avo. And that’s when I notice half of a large avo, unwrapped and helplessly exposed to the elements, on the shelf below mine.
I look at mine again and suddenly notice how small it is. But it wasn’t small this morning. In fact, when I took it out of the fridge at home, it was next to a small one. I chose that particular avo because it was large. It even said on the sticker: “Large Avocado, Ripe & Ready”. It was ripe and I was ready, hence why I brought it in to work for lunch.
This is the moment when the anonymous salad eater gains an identity and enters the kitchen to retrieve their salad. “Ah, yes! Finally get to eat my lunch. See you later!” They say cheerily as they walk back out of the kitchen, starting to eat the greenery.
I look back to the teeny-tiny avo in my hand and then to the lonely large half-avo and it clicks. That salad-muncher has stolen my larger-than-life avocado and replaced it with their smaller, inferior avocado!
I want to storm back through the corridor, into their office and sweep everything of their desk. Red-faced with rage, I’d grab them by the collar and with my nostrils flared with anger, I’d yell “I KNOW WHAT YOU DID.”
Instead, in true British form, I go back to my desk quietly and worry. I pick up my phone and message my mates Jo and Fliss on a group chat where we exchange advice, compliments and the odd “Does anyone else ever have a nervous poo?”.
Me: Guys, I know this sounds mental, but I think someone in the office has stolen my avocado.
Fliss: …most random thing ever stolen?
Me: I know the large avo was mine because there were two in the fridge at home, and the one on the left was large. It even said on the sticker and everything! I WRAPPED IT IN CLING FILM FOR CHRIST’S SAKE.
Jo: WHO WOULD DO THAT
Me: I DON’T KNOW I’M SO ANGRY
Fliss: Are you absolutely sure this has happened?
Jo: OF COURSE SHE’S SURE, WHO WOULD DO THAT
Me: I don’t know what to do. I know who it was and everything – they’re just sitting there, practically eating it in front of me.
Jo: THE NERVE.
Fliss: Go over there and confront them.
Me: And say what, “Excuse me but I know you stole my avo and replaced it with your smaller one. There’s nothing I can do about it because you’re eating it right in front of me now but I wanted to make you aware of the situation in case you were subconsciously doing it and didn’t mean to because it’s really upsetting me and how dare you and please don’t don’t do it again ok thanks bye.” ???
Jo: Maybe they’ve got an unquenchable thirst for avo
Fliss: Could be.
Jo: Which, tbf, I wouldn’t blame them for. Avos are da bes.
Me: But it’s mutual – I also love avos. Doesn’t mean you get to steal a woman’s avo!
Jo: FRIENDLY FIRE
Jo: SAVE THE AVOS
Me: Thanks guys, I’m glad you don’t think I’m nuts
Jo: LET’S CHAIN OURSELVES TO TREES TO SAVE THE AVOS.
…did I mention Jo is an Ecologist?