The Joplin Globe, Joplin, MO

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July 18, 2008

Anne Kettenbrink: Who stole my cheese?

As I opened the refrigerator door, the familiar smell wafted out. It was not the smell of fresh produce and meat just arrived from the market, or of still-warm leftovers from a home-cooked meal.

It was the smell of stickiness clinging to fridge shelves, of mold trying to escape from under cheap plastic lids on cheap plastic containers, of stale forgotten hot-dog buns and of old condiments bought by employees long gone for a cookout long digested.

Mmmmmmm, the smell of the work fridge.

I opened the work fridge, which is communal property, looking for what I had placed on the top shelf the day before: A cup of yogurt, a bag of fruit and a block of cheese.

This makes it sound like I eat healthier than I do. So far I have only progressed to the buying of healthy food, but I still manage to rummage up junk food rather than eat healthy.

But I digress.

On the top shelf, I found yogurt, a bag of fruit ... but no cheese.

Seriously, this was a super, big block of cheese that I had opened the day before for one meal. Eighty percent should still have been in the fridge, wrapped safely in its plastic wrap.

So I started moving things. I moved the paper bag with one can of pop. Goodbye, paper bag. Pop can stays. I moved the paper bag with one peach, or some other such fruit to which I am likely allergic. Afraid to touch the fruit, which might have been rotting, I left that bag alone.

I moved the stale hot-dog buns. I moved the jar of pickles. I moved the package of sliced cheese (not MY cheese), and I moved the plastic bag with the remainder of a salad from who knows when.

I touched things in the back, just in case someone had accidentally pushed my cheese to the back. I should have worn gloves.

It was all in vain; there was no sign of my cheese, even in the attached freezer.

I couldn’t believe it. I had seen episodes of sitcoms where people had eaten other peoples’ lunches, but I didn’t think that actually happened.

My cheese was in the refrigerator for less than 24 hours. And I know no one threw it away, because I am the only one who throws away anything from the fridge.

With hunger rumbling in my tummy, because someone had stolen my dinner, I went searching for evidence. I peeked in trash cans, hoping to catch a glimpse of the empty wrapper.

I did not find anything, probably because I could not bring myself to actually move anything in anyone’s trash can.

So, I enlisted the help of an accomplice, Traci, who works for UR-Way Cleaning in our building. She had to dump the trash anyway, so I figured she could just take a peek and keep an eye out for the wrapper.

She did a good job, but alas, no cheese wrapper was found.

I shall have to leave a note on the work fridge, declaring my dismay and asking for the return of my cheese. Nothing else goes better with my whine.



Address correspondence to Anne E. Kettenbrink, c/o The Joplin Globe, P.O. Box 7, Joplin, MO 64802, or via e-mail, akettenbrink@joplinglobe.com.

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