The Sonia Show

Writer. Podcaster. Beer drinker. Old movie watcher. Mother. Goober.

Pull over! It’s the Food Police!


Yeah, so, one of my coworkers is an officer for food police.

She is obsessed with everyone’s lunches. Every time someone warms up something in the microwave she swings by their cube to ask what it is and tell them that it smells good. Around noon every day we all listen to her make her rounds around the office.

She’s been particularly obsessed with what I’m eating because I’m knocked up. She often walks by my cube, asks about my food and then comments about how I’m going to have a big baby, which is her way of saying, “OMG! You’re huge.”

Yes, I have a seven months pregnant belly. It’s big. It has its own weather system. I get it.

So anyway, today I got some pizza from Arizmendi in Emeryville. I ordered half a pizza, so there would be some leftovers for lunch tomorrow. I had a slice (fine, two slices) and put the remaining two slices aside for tomorrow’s lunch.

And here comes the food police …

Food police: “Did you get pizza, Sonia?
Me: “Yep.”
Food police: “It smells good.”
Me: “Thanks.”

She leaves.

Five minutes later …

Food police: “Where did you get the pizza?”
Me: “Arizmendi.”

She proceeds to ask where it is and if she could walk there. I tell her no.

Me: “Would you like a piece?”
Food police: “No no.”
Me: “Are you sure?”
Food police: “No, I couldn’t. Thank you, though.”

She leaves.

Five minutes later …

She’s lingering around the cube.

Me: “Are you sure you don’t want a piece?”
Food police: “I will pay you for it.”
Me: “You don’t need to pay for it. Don’t be silly. You can have a piece.”

There was much back and forth and finally she gave me $3 and went back to her cube with her pizza. A coworker bought lunch off of me. It’s probably the strangest conversation I’ve had with a coworker since I started working here.

After she left, my office buddy Paul sent me a chat:

“You shouldn’t have fed her. Now she’s going to follow you home.”


Author: The Sonia Show

I'm a writer/podcaster/mother/goober in San Francisco who likes to drink beer, shop, laugh and make other people laugh, watch old movies, feed my unhealthy obsession with pop culture, kick breast cancer's ass, go on adventures with my mighty, mighty good man David and my awesome autistic son, Calvin, wear orange and root for the San Francisco Giants, participate in general jackass-ery, talk about TV, eavesdrop on strangers' conversations, make nerdy “Star Wars” and “Simpsons” references, and post personal things about myself on the web for all to read, which makes me some sort of literary exhibitionist.

4 thoughts on “Pull over! It’s the Food Police!

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