All around the world, in law firms and accounting firms and media conglomerates and ad agencies, s**tty lunch thieves lay in wait for you to put something in the fridge that their sticky, grubby little dick mittens can ooze over and devour. Your Snack Pack? Your Reuben? Your non-alcoholic mojito? Gone! Running through the digestive tract of your work's version of a s**t-encrusted, Soviet-made buttf**king machine that runs on sandwiches and the tears of the hungry bastards who lost those sandwiches.
According to a Monster.com survey, 43 percent of office workers say they've been the victim of a lunch thief. Can you imagine that? How many people don't even bring a lunch to the office? This means pretty much everyone who does bring a lunch has had that s**t stolen by unscrupulous twat waffles. Do I sound bitter? Bitter as the goddamn half of grapefruit that would nicely accented my roasted turkey and Swiss on French bread that I never got to eat last week, because one of these office sharts jammed it in their nutrient dump because they were raised by Appalachian bush pigs.
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I hope you trip and fall into this dick-first (or vagina-first).