Feign Diabetes, It’s The Only Way
Sarah Marsh alerts Guardian readers to yet another workplace hazard, i.e., the dangers of cake:
It’s 10.30am on a Monday and already the smell of cakes is wafting towards your desk. The colleague, who usually does a spot of baking over the weekend, has been up all night making cupcakes and an email has just flown around about their latest goodies.
Yes, it’s a tale of horror.
Later in the day another email pings into your inbox, this time it’s an update – there’s still some cake left and also sweets have been purchased.
Sweets? A second email? Why, it’s practically harassment.
And it’s always the same people who bring in the treats (you know the ones I mean).
Those bitches, trying to make the day a little more fun by sharing baked fancies with their workmates.
They are not trying to make you overeat, but they are making it much harder to stay healthy. Arguably you don’t have to take the snacks, and, as an adult, you should be able to say no.
I fear the word arguably is doing an awful lot of work here.
However, there is almost a reverse guilt around not accepting the baking of your colleagues. You feel bad for turning down a cake they’ve made to share together. The whole office frowns on you as if you’re some sort of killjoy when you decline to even taste Michael’s prize gateau.
The whole office, you say? It’s strange how the empowered, progressive ladies at the Guardian seem forever at the mercy of every small social expectation, however trivial and weightless.
What’s more, some people (myself included) simply do not have the willpower.
As I was saying, empowered ladies.
For those who are genuinely struggling with their weight and trying to diet, the office baker wafting croissants around is their worst nightmare. Added to that the fact you’ve had a hard day, burdened with loads of extra work, and it’s even more difficult to resist.
Oh, that this world should have such woe in it, such vile temptations. We must recalibrate the term “worst nightmare” to include the offer of a small bun.
And once you start snacking in work, it’s a vicious circle.
I suppose that rather depends on the aforementioned willpower and mental autonomy, or a peculiar lack thereof.
We’ve rallied against turkey Twizzlers in school, the fast food industry and ready meals – so why do we ignore the rising amount of cake and sweets that are filling our workplaces?
Apparently, something must be done to save us from our passing appetites and gestures of goodwill. Because adult responsibility is just too much to ask. Perhaps we should make the partakers of baked goods stand outside with the smokers? Until scientists discover a way to make cake-eating optional.
Readers may recall an earlier Guardian article on the subject of hazardous pastries, in which the even more pious Matt Seaton denounced said objects as,
Butter-iced snares of self-loathing that sell precisely because they exploit young women’s insecurity about their looks and identity, and offer a completely false and self-defeating solace of temporary gratification, almost certainly followed by remorse and disgust.
After telling us at length how “demeaning” and politically corrupting these tiny treats are, Mr Seaton reassured his readers,
I don’t want to ban cupcakes.
As if banning miniature sponges were an obvious thing to consider, the kind of thing one does. And after banning them in his own office, much to the applause of fellow Guardianista Isabella Mackie, who wrote:
I used to bring cakes into the office a lot, and Matt put a ban on it because he was worried about how much sugar we all ate. Practises what he preaches this man.
He’s taking a stand against tiny cakelets. The time must fly.
What oven-fresh new Hell is this?
Until scientists discover a way to make cake-eating optional.
🙂
We’ve rallied against turkey Twizzlers in school…so why do we ignore the rising amount of cake and sweets that are filling our workplaces?
Because adults aren’t children?
I think we ought to file this under “British problems the French don’t have”.
So, just to clarify here, Matt said “I don’t want to ban cupcakes” and then, he banned cupcakes? Why do SJWs always lie?
Warm days in the office, I make cocktails. Fuck cakes.
I blame Big Baking.
Those lucky, skinny bastards in Ethiopia never have to put up with that kind of shit.
Because adults aren’t children?
Judging by the evidence on display this statement in not universally true.
the rising amount of cake and sweets that are filling our workplaces
“Margaret, have you seen the photocopier?”
“It’s over there, behind the catering packs of sponge fingers, under the pile of Battenberg.”
“I’ll need ladders.”
Three words. ‘No thanks. Diet’.
Three words. ‘No thanks. Diet’.
You’re being much too sensible. This is the Guardian. There has to be drama, and intervention, and someone else to blame.
The depressing thing is, she just makes a blanket statement that she “doesn’t have” the willpower to resist cakes. Where is the desire to improve herself, for the self-examined life? It’s such a poverty of ambition.
Perhaps the rise of cake has filled the gap left by less drinking at lunchtime?
God how I miss the 3 pints buzz in the afternoons!
Fuck me. I brought cookies to the office today. I’m a monster. I shall go to each person, snatch the cookie away and tearfully apologize.
the cake is a lie
I see we have a disruptive element in our midst. Remain calm, citizens.
[ Nods to henchlesbians. ]
Making the mistake of reading the comments. My heavens so many of those people are adult sized children. It is rather sad.
And it’s always the same people who bring in the treats (you know the ones I mean).
The Jews?
The whole office frowns on you as if you’re some sort of killjoy
Not when I politely decline, no, though one wonders at the reaction if I also turned my reluctance to partake into a complaint essay published in a national newspaper.
When I worked in Nigeria, one of the “delicacies” the locals would sometimes bring into the office was giant African snail fried in garlic. These things were about four inches across and had a texture which more often is seen with the word “Michelin” molded into it. One of my lads had a wife who worked in a restaurant which specialised in these things and he kept bringing in bags of them for me as a special treat. I’d love to have shown more gratitude, but they went straight in the bin, and not because I was watching my weight.
Arguably you don’t have to take the snacks, and, as an adult, you should be able to say no.
Yes, arguably, as there could conceivably be someone with a gun pointed at you if don’t take the snack. Very likely scenario in the warrens of the Guardian, I suspect.
Science also tells us that it’s harder to say no to food if it’s closer at hand. In a 2014 study, 40 secretaries were offered chocolate in various degrees of proximity. They ate more when they were nearer to it.
Wait, I have to unpack this. So if I don’t have to go downstairs, get in my car, and drive to the nearest Stop-N-Rob for a snack because one is in the next room, I might opt to go to the next room ? Science is amazing.
Added to that the fact you’ve had a hard day, burdened with loads of extra work, and it’s even more difficult to resist.
OK, your work is to grind out an occasional whining screed for the Guardian, and you are bitching because that is hard and overburdening you by 1030 ? Grrlpower !
We’ve rallied against turkey Twizzlers…
OK, over here in the US&A, Twizzlers are twisted licorice sticks and a turkey version sounded bizarre, but having looked it up, I now want some of the UK version. I suppose I should denounce myself for that.
Very likely scenario in the warrens of the Guardian, I suspect.
Yes, the horrifically oppressive workplace she describes – where Ms Marsh is “social and community editor” and is sometimes offered cake – is actually the crib of the Kings Place Massive.
over here in the US&A, Twizzlers are twisted licorice sticks and a turkey version sounded bizarre
I experienced the same puzzlement, which I proceeded to alleviate with some googlemancy, and I now must ask: what sort of git is this Jamie Oliver?
A commentor elsewhere was musing about “unmedicated paranoid feminists ” . I pointed him here to satisfy his curiosity. That’s my good deed for today.
Butter-iced snares of self-loathing that sell precisely because they exploit young women’s insecurity about their looks and identity…
Also, they’re delicious.
…the crib of the Kings Place Massive.
The horror, the horror.
Actually, in the third photo down, it looks like the monsters have gone so far as to set up some sort of snack/coffee bar right next to the escalator and entrance, what blackhearted bastards run that place to tempt people so ?
On a side note, the banner at the top of the page has George Moonbat telling me that just $4.99 (nice of them to do the conversion for me) I can help ensure quality journalism is available to all. Alas, George doesn’t tell me where I might find it.
what sort of git is this Jamie Oliver
A tremendous one, I can assure you (though I was a fan before he got so preachy).
I had no idea that when I say “no, thank you” when offered cake at work makes me some sort of Nietzschean superman.
“So, just to clarify here, Matt said “I don’t want to ban cupcakes” and then, he banned cupcakes?”
Fuckng tyrant. Kick the bearded cunt in the balls, the only way he’ll learn.
I am assuming he has a beard. And balls too.
What a truly pathetic bunch of people. Remember, these are the masters who think you are too dumb to make your own decisions.
Another team here often buys cakes and chocolates and leaves them out for passers by. Most days I pass by, some days I eat one. Life goes on.
“Cake culture”? Really?
Oh my.
I used to have this problem at work. Somehow I came out alive. When I was not in the mood for sweets (more often than not… I am not a sweet tooth). I would smile politely and say, ‘thanks for the offer, but not today.’ Sometimes I would add ‘but it looks lovely though.’ Other days if I had a spare small container at my desk I would ask to take a piece home if there was any left, and would give it to my partner. Somehow I emerged from this minefield alive. Not only that but, dare I say, very well liked.
Yessir life is certainly easier now that my old office has been disbanded and I now work in an environment where people keep all kind gestures to themselves.
I quite like it when someone else says no thanks to workplace cake. It means more cake for me. What’s not to like?
I once had a co-worker who had escaped an abusive marriage and every so often she’d bake brownies and cookies—she found it therapeutic—and wrapped each individually in Saran wrap.
NOW refuse to eat the therapy-treats, you fiend!
Emma Thompson (she who thinks we Brits live on a “cake-filled misery-laden grey old island”) took part in a Bake Off parody.
Such are the consequences of dissing cake culture.
And it’s always the same people who bring in the treats (you know the ones I mean).
The Jews?
Heh.
Someone I regularly ran into a bit back was extremely aware and in favor of all the commentary of The Jews owning all the banks and controlling all the money and having all that cash, but he did have one distinct problem with the idea and really wanted that problem solved. In his case, with a wife and a mortgage and alimony and a kid on the way to college, given that he is one of The Jews, where the bloody hell was his share of all that money?!?!?!?!
“Feign Diabetes, It’s The Only Way”
It’s the only way to get through PMQs
http://metro.co.uk/2016/07/06/did-theresa-may-nod-off-during-camerons-chilcot-statement-5989936/
Such are the consequences of dissing cake culture.
As noted at the time, you have to marvel at the obliviousness of someone who blathers about what she and her associates “will not allow” in “our countryside,” after travelling 200 miles from her capacious London home, climbing a farmer’s fence, disrupting his work at length, and while trespassing on his property.
where the bloody hell was his share of all that money?!?!?!?!
In a bag around his neck. He never noticed it? Learned about it on South Park.
http://southpark.cc.com/clips/155015/jew-gold
the crib of the Kings Place Massive.
LOL
Hey, I’m down with the urban yoot.
[ Looks moody, does gang fingers. ]
At least the author has a choice. An actual diabetic doesn’t.
“Very likely scenario in the warrens of the Guardian, I suspect.”
More likely than guns is a Room 101 in the bowels of the building, where ideological criminals are forced to watch Diversity Training videos while enduring electric shocks.
“And I now must ask: what sort of git is this Jamie Oliver?”
Quite simply, Jamie Oliver is the gits’ git.
… forced to watch Diversity Training videos while enduring electric shocks
With some Clockwork Orange device holding their eyelids open.
Emma Thompson dissed the Great British Baking Show?
Who the hell does that?
::cries::
What an ingrate.
In a culture where “readymade” us ubiquitous, and is no longer associated with art, someone ACTUALLY GOES TO THE EFFORT of baking, and that idiotrix has to complain about someone’s kindness.
Cold dead fingers, assholes!
So why doesn’t she bake something healthy, like maybe a carrot, and bring it in and share it?
Oh, you don’t bake carrots?
Damn.
I’m out of ideas.
This just in. Free cupcakes are oppressing office workers! Meanwhile, in Venezuela today…
“Free cupcakes are oppressing office workers!”
So give them bacon!
Green Chile Bagels. This is why the hispanic working class loves soul food.
And beer with lime. Sweet and spicey. Hell, even the Asians have worked that out.
Asians are not good plumbers. But in their defense that is what the lower anglo class is good for. Enchiladas and strippers are the politics of the days.
“Butter-iced snares of self-loathing that sell precisely because they exploit young women’s insecurity about their looks and identity, and offer a completely false and self-defeating solace of temporary gratification, almost certainly followed by remorse and disgust.”
Wow. Don’t hold back, girlie.
She should try having Crone’s disease, or maybe a nice anaphylactic food allergy. Or a wheat allergy, that’s a great one. Then she could be all thin and holy, and able to resist the sinful Cakes of Death, due to the crushing pain and knotted bowel that is the reward for eating the wrong thing.
So, the Pilsbury Doughboy is Gosner the Destructor of the weakminded. Good to know.
I can refuse cake easily and politely enough, but did get suckered by someone mentioning the comments below the original article. Weak-willed, and now flabbergasted:
And you are saying that at your workplace you have the time and the money to go for a drink after work? Really? The last time we had time for drinks – formally or informally other than at Christmas – was in the 90s
No wonder BREXIT happened.
I had no idea that when I say “no, thank you” when offered cake at work makes me some sort of Nietzschean superman.
Speaking of Nietzsche and cakes…
“Cold dead fingers, assholes!”
That sounds uncomfortable, but hey, different strokes…
‘Cakes are a demeaning weapon of the patriarchy’ says Victoria Sponge, the Guardian’s new feminist features writer.
Speaking of Nietzsche and cakes…
Oh, very nice . . .
See also . . .
Is anything funnier than a feminist declare her strength & independence from her fainting couch?
‘declaring’
My apologies.
I got offered a just-prior-to-closing-up beer in the back shop today. I declined:
1) I lifted tonight, and generally beer and squats/deadlifts don’t mix for me; and
2) It was Coors Light.
I am not kidding:
I go from 99% suicidal to Just Fine after eating sugar. Or even just a diet cola and popcorn.
I barely figured this out today.
What awesome news!
It was Coors Light.
well, nobody else did.
Liked. Stolen. Thanks:-).
3 words: It’s not halal.
Let’s see the PC police wrap their minds around that. 🙂
Could this, as adumbrated above, be the reason why all these histrionic cretins are so keen on foisting authoritarianism on everyone else? That they are so lacking in anything even resembling self-control they need someone to stop them eating cakes and, by extension, to stop everyone else eating cakes too? It’s too much of a leap of imagination to think other people might not be quite so pusillanimous.
That they are so lacking in anything even resembling self-control they need someone to stop them eating cakes and, by extension, to stop everyone else eating cakes too?
Well, the displacement of responsibility is a Guardian staple, with society or capitalism (or ‘late capitalism’, or ‘neoliberalism’ or whatever) being blamed for the columnist’s own hang-ups and incontinence. Tanya Gold did it two or three times during her time at the paper, as did Madeleine Bunting, Oliver James, VJD Smith and God knows how many others. Diane Abbott once claimed that capitalism is the reason she got fat, and still is.
It’s practically a rule. If a Guardian contributor drinks too much, eats too much, buys too many shoes… well, obviously, they’re the victim because consumerist peer pressure somehow made them do it against their will, such as it is. The premise is generally “capitalism made me fat,” followed by “capitalism made me anxious about being fat,” followed by “tax such-and-such to buggery, or ban it altogether, and then I’ll be thin.”
I suppose it makes a change though. Normally socialists want to have their cake and eat it (and eat everyone else’s too). This lot don’t want to have their cake, or eat it.
Somewhat apposite.
It’s too bad the treats weren’t laced with Prozac.