Eleven. That's ten plus one for lunch. Lunch is a sacred time. Lately people have been messing with my sacred time.

Each day I bring food. Yogurt for breakfast, two low-sodium V8s, one Coca Cola and a chicken pot pie. I get in at six AM, brew coffee for everyone and eat my yogurt. The drinks go in the fridge and my pot pie goes in the freezer. I should also say that I do have some tendencies. My fooding has to be specific or it throws everything off and I'm having a bad time. That means one V8 at eleven, lunch at one (pot pie and Coke), one V8 at three.

Lately my Cokes have been getting abducted. Not every day, but random occurrences, I'll reach for it when warming up my pot pie and it's not there. Not fucking there. I can deal with that; I'll just make some tea and get on with my life. It's an acceptable substitute. What I cannot stand for is when my pot pie - the major source of sustenance for my eleven hour day - goes missing. All these other butts are here for eight, maybe nine hours. Forget your lunch? Then go without. Don't fucking steal food, man! And don't steal from the guy who works the longest fucking shifts!

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God damn guys, I'm pissed. I have nothing but my Coke and a bag of Gardettos to get me through the rest of the day. I'm thinking of leaving a note (with my name on it to not be passive-aggressive) on the fridge, requesting my pot pie be returned or I be reimbursed.