The Banana Crisis of 2014

Sometimes you wake up and think that it’s going to be a good week.  Then sometimes you wake up, walk into work, and are greeted by a sight so perplexing, it would make Socrates and Plato shake in their teva sandals.

This morning, I was bombarded by an undocumented table full of bananas.

exhibit A.

exhibit A.

I’ve talked openly about my decision to take it upon myself to liberate office fruits from their corporate purgatory, but this task was just too large to surmount.  I was immediately defeated and called Uncle.

No really, I called my uncle and asked him what on God’s green earth I should be doing with all these potassium filled breakfast treats.  A coworker suggested buying a monkey, but I’m trying to get a raise in the near future, and purchasing an office chimp doesn’t seem like a budgetarily sound alternative to a pay increase.

After extensive research, Pea Pod has since admitted their error, and has agreed to take this case on and dub it The Banana Crisis of 2014.

They have informed me that they cannot take the bananas off my hands, so I sent out the following email to my co-workers in an effort to deplete the amount of yellow fruit lurking around the office.

email

necessary company wide email.

 

There have been limited takers, and I am sitting behind a potassium fueled wall with no end in sight.  Thus, I have decided to scour the interwebs and find a home for the nans.

I am on the hunt for any potassium deficient children, rogue monkeys, or anyone who has an upcoming bake sale and a penchant for making really delicious banana bread. 

Also, if you are Jack Johnson, please call me, I can help you out with making those pancakes and pretending it’s the weekend.

Here is a list of potential uses for the aforementioned bananas:

  • eat them
  • banana bread
  • banana nut muffins
  • strawberry banana smoothie
  • banana boomerangs
  • use one or many as a telephone
  • makeshift headbands
  • pretend we are in Jamaica
  • phallic symbols everywhere
  • attract birds and butterflies
  • perfect the peeling technique
  • learn how to appropriately put on a condom
  • play banana jenga
  • have a ripe-off contest
  • attempt the classic banana peel fall as seen in various movies and cartoons
  • use them as alternative smiles and frowns when your face is tired
  • pretend to be monkeys
  • introduce an office-wide scavenger hunt
  • throw them out

***

Help. What would YOU do in this situation?

 

Is There Anything Worse Than A Bruised Banana?

20140611-051241-18761863.jpg

EW.

I say this with the utmost sensitivity, but also not being sensitive at all because I’m at the airport, sans coffee, and all I had to look forward to after the debacle that is TSA security was the banana I liberated from my office yesterday afternoon.

To my dismay, after removing said freed work banana out of my trusty satchel, I found that it looks mildly discolored.

Normally, this is fine. I’ll take a brown spotted over a hard green any day of the week and twice on Sunday, but this particular banana was full of lies and deceit.

After the initial peel, which usually fills me with glee and anticipation of eating a potassium induced fruit that, after consumption, alleviates me of an annoying pulsating cramp in my left shoulder from sleeping weird, I noticed that the one or two spots on the outside revealed a more disturbing inside.

This banana was dead.

And there was no saving it.

It was like I opened a yellow protective peel expecting to see a freestanding fruit, yet I was greeted with a pile of brown mush that was only held together by a damaged outer shell.

The banana that held my hand through security, the banana that helped me save one whole dollar at Dunkin Donuts, the banana I worked tirelessly to liberate from the kitchen cages of corporate greed, my friends, that banana was inedible.

If you know anything about airports, you know that getting through security unscathed and with your entrails intact is a feat most people don’t overcome.

But I thought luck was on my side When the TSA woman at the initial check point let me know that I basically don’t look like a terrorist.

Round One: Meg – 1, Airport – 0.

I was selected to pass through security in the fast lane. No shoe removal, no invasive body scans, no suitcase search, just an innocent face and a plane to catch.

And the thought in the back of my mind that I would be enjoying the
deliciously ripe banana that accompanied me through airport security.

After pretty much getting upgraded to the first class security line, and fast tracking it through metal detectors like it ain’t no thang, I was shocked that after the good fortunes I was again rewarded with a wonderful window seat to watch planes departing whilst eating my potassium.

Round Two: Meg – 2, Airport – 0.

Only then did I realize that my morning would take a turn for the worst.

I could not enjoy my banana.

I couldn’t even look it in the eye and tell it why I was throwing it out.  It just needed to go.

I am hungry. I am tired. And I am still twitching in my left shoulder because I slept weird.

Fuck you, banana. Get a hard shell. Adapt, evolve, do something and stop ruining my life.

Airport/Banana – 1, Meg – 0.