I was on a strict diet, the kind that requires planning ahead and resisting office snacks from every direction. Every morning, I brought my own smoothie ingredients—pre-portioned fruit, protein powder, almond milk, supplements. Simple, but it kept me on track.
Then they started disappearing.
First a missing banana. Then half a container of berries. Soon, entire portions were gone. No note. No apology.
I didn’t complain. I didn’t email the group. I just paid attention.
Every time my ingredients vanished, one coworker—let’s call him Greg—suddenly had a smoothie in hand minutes later, joking about how “someone left great stuff in the fridge.”
So one evening, I made a special batch.
Nothing dangerous. Just… unforgettable.
The next morning, I packed my usual ingredients plus one clearly labeled container. Inside was a mix of technically healthy but deeply unpleasant things: unsweetened protein powder, plain kefir, turmeric, cayenne, ginger, and a heavy dose of fiber.
Ten minutes later, Greg walked past sipping a smoothie.
He took a sip. Then another. Then stopped.
Five minutes later, he vanished into the restroom.
That afternoon, he stopped by my desk. Red-faced. Embarrassed.
“I think I accidentally drank your smoothie,” he said.
“That’s why I label my food,” I replied.
He nodded. “It won’t happen again.”
And it didn’t.
My food was never touched again. Neither was anyone else’s.
Because sometimes respect starts with something simple—like not stealing someone’s breakfast.
