Jubilation

“Oh my God!” came a yelp from just down the hall, the first of the day’s eight or nine similar exclamations. For the first week I worked here, I thought she received an unusual amount of bad news. Then I started listening. She always followed up with peals of laughter and “That UPS man is so handsome, boy, I’d like ta…” or “Somebody’s food smells really good!”

“Oh my God!” she shrieked, to nobody specifically. “Have you tasted these?” We’d just had a cookie exchange at the office, so people’s desks were piled high with the results of each other’s weekend experiments, iced and sprinkled and frosted and filled. From all along the hallway, you could hear plastic wrap being unrolled, untwisted, stretched out, and, finally, carefully, pealed back. We were trying but failing to ignore the beckoning cookies. Why had we done this to ourselves in the morning, on a Monday?

“TASTE THE LITTLE BALL-SHAPED ONES!” She was practically levitating now, having broken into her each of her plastic cookie bags – having never really wrapped them, probably. She started giggling. “It’s like a chocolate....like a pillow or something, oh my God!”

Soon, people were giggling with her. From inside all the cubes and offices, you could hear internal battles being lost. Plastic wrap being ripped away now, balled up, thrown at the trash can. “Dang, I’m not gonna get any work done today!” And neither were we. Crumbs were scattered everywhere and chocolate was smeared on keyboards. All day long, there was laughter coming from some corner of the office, as somebody admitted to devouring something heavenly, to having a little too much fun for a Monday.

“Holy cow!” she’d squeal, like she’d just discovered a secret. “Try the real fancy ones, I feel like I’m havin’ tea with the queen!”